


Sword and Sorcery

by Lewdsmokesoldier



Series: Genji/Angela [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Junkenstein's Revenge, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lewdsmokesoldier/pseuds/Lewdsmokesoldier
Summary: After the Witch’s third attack on Adlersbrunn, the defenders have elected to preemptively stop her next assault. Following the counsel of the Monk, the Swordsman ventures off into the Black Forest to track down the Witch and put an end to her one-on-one, but when he’s ambushed by her magic, he may find that the tables have turned.





	1. A Blade in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Witch’s third attack on Adlersbrunn, the defenders have elected to preemptively stop her next assault. Following the counsel of the Monk, the Swordsman ventures off into the Black Forest to track down the Witch and put an end to her one-on-one, but when he’s ambushed by her magic, he may find that the tables have turned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One could make an argument that this contains dubiously consensual sex. It takes place in the “Junkenstein’s Revenge” universe. 
> 
> I tried to make this one the more “porny” version of the two variations of the story, so expect more words like “balls”, “cock”, “load” and “ass” rather than their more dignified alternatives.
> 
> Yes, it’s silly. I assure you that those words were more than a little embarrassing to write, but I’m trying out something new here. Alternative version is on this site.

The defenders of Adlersbrunn breathed a collective sigh of relief. All signs pointed to a halt in the enemy offensive. Try as he might, Doctor Junkenstein and his allies had been repelled for the third year in a row.  
  
And yet the celebrations were muted, the apprehension among the defenders palpable. They could not truly relax, knowing that their enemies still plotted against them and would return the following year. That pattern had been too deeply entrenched for it to change now.  
  
Still, the wanderers were proud of the work they had done. Yet even as most whiled away the time on the Lord’s coin, loosening the worry that kept them taut, a pair found themselves deep in conversation by the balcony overlooking the Black Forest beyond the city’s gates, planning for the future.  
  
“The Witch will not stop. That much is clear by now, my student.” The Monk’s mechanical face betrayed no expression, concealed as it was behind a mass of robotic tentacles. “We must change our strategy if we are to mitigate her future endeavors.”  
  
“What do you suggest, Master?” The Swordsman sat cross-legged before the Monk, the rim of his conical hat tipped in front of his eyes. His scarred lips, and whatever emotion they might have betrayed, lay hidden behind a metal covering. His black-and-brown gi folded and wound loosely over his form, disguising the injured flesh beneath layers of soft, comfortable fabric.  
  
“You are practiced in many arts, my student. Those of subterfuge, espionage, and assassination. In skills that enable you to operate within the darkness.”  
  
The Swordsman nodded. This was not unknown to the others: in fact, his capacity in such endeavors was the very reason he had accompanied his master to Adlersbrunn.  
  
“I want you to employ these skills, my apprentice. As they were _meant_ to be used: out of sight, out of attention. If we are to best the Witch, we cannot play by her rules.” The Monk tilted his head towards the forest beyond.  
  
“I sense you will find her there, my student. But be warned: though she may not be expecting you specifically, she will still be prepared for incursions. Be wary.”  
  
The Swordsman stood. He knew what he had to do and bowed to his master. “It is done.”

* * *

  
That was how the Swordsman found himself navigating the Black Forest beneath a waning gibbous moon. Whenever the clouds passed across its surface, the muted light softened the shadows cast by the spindly trees, which helped him move from each dark patch to the next more easily and broke his outline whenever he needed to step into the light. The mist hung low, threading between the trees and kept him from seeing more than a few feet in front of him at a time. Wolves howled, crows cawed and the very trees seemed to thrum with a deep-rooted malice as he passed them.  
  
He hadn’t needed to use the full extent of his ninja training in some time. The siege of Adlersbrunn had required agility, yes, but there was a difference between bellowing war cries as he cut down Zomnics with his blade and navigating a hostile environment undetected. Fortunately, the Swordsman’s learning hadn’t left him and he still remembered the important lessons. Stay low, stay fast, stay quiet and stay ready.  
  
Which was why he was so flabbergasted when he sprung the Witch’s trap.  
  
His hand brushed a branch, when suddenly the bark groaned and grew outward, enveloping his fingers in the tree’s flesh. The loss of balance made his foot brush a toadstool, which flashed a kaleidoscope of colors before he found his knees buckling under him. Flustered, the Swordsman reached over to pry his hand free of the tree, but the bark simply grew outward again, trapping his hands together.  
  
The Swordsman was stuck, arms in the tree, legs paralyzed and lying useless against the grass. And with the amount of light and noise he had just made, he was sure that _something_ in the woods would come investigate the commotion.  
  
“Well, well. What have we here?”  
  
He gritted his teeth. It was _her_. Of course it was.  
  
“Where are you? How do you know where I am?” He screamed into the night, hoping his voice could penetrate this unnatural fog. He was past stealth now: all that he could hope for was to escape whole.  
  
“I have eyes and ears all over the forest. And I can be anywhere within my domain in but an instant.” The voice seemed to come from all around him, but the Swordsman took note of the raven watching him with black, beady, too-intelligent eyes from the branch of the tree he was stuck fast to. He should have been more careful: no crow was that attentive.  
  
“I must say, I was not expecting to see any of you again so soon. What is it, I wonder, that has called you out into my woods?” The Witch revealed herself, melting out of the mist as if she had been there the whole time. The Swordsman’s brow furrowed as he beheld his target.  
  
A pair of bat-like wings were attached to her back, though their shine made the Swordsman guess that they were magical in nature, rather than a part of her body. A brown belt wrapped around her waist, with a strap to hold a heavy tome, which bore the label "Vitae". Her collar was frilled with gold thread, wrapped in a scarlet cloth that rested on the Witch’s shoulders and was held together with a silver button. The space between her scarf and her corset exposed a window of her pale skin, while a line of buttons held the leather together, dotting the bat-shaped symbol on her front.  
  
The cloth extended downward, falling between the Witch’s legs on both the front and back of her body and her feet ended in curled-toe, thigh-high boots studded with circle fasteners. Brown elbow-length gloves hugged her forearms and black-and-orange torn sleeves hung low on her elbow, while a pair of golden bracelets wrapped around her right wrist. Her broom rested on her left shoulder and as the Witch twirled it, a grin spread across her features. Her gold jack-o-lantern earrings jingled as she leaned towards him, the black witch’s hat on her head staying still despite the changed angle. She reached out her free hand and held it under his chin, tilting it upward. Pursing her lips, the Witch giggled balefully.  
  
“Have you come to join me? Do you tire of serving that self-obsessed lord, or that withering old Monk? Do you seek a new master, perhaps a mistress instead? What might you offer me?”  
  
“I offer you nothing. I did not venture into this wood to become one of your pawns.” The Swordsman guffawed. Clenching his jaw and turning his head away, he strained against the tree. He could eventually free his hands and then work the numbness out of his legs, but that would require time the Witch would not give him. So instead, the Swordsman cocked his head in her direction and frowned. “If you are going to kill me, let it be done. I will never be your servant.”  
  
The Witch laughed, her chortles escalating into peals of joy as she leaned on her broom and clutched her stomach in her mirth. The rest of the forest fell eerily silent as her laughter echoed through the mist and trees, the wolves and the crows conceding the night to the Witch’s laughter.  
  
“Oh, my dear, sweet, _honorable_ Swordsman,” The Witch began, grasping his covered chin in her free hand and forcing him to look back at her. “When I am done with you, you will be _begging_ to become my newest servant. You will belong to me, now and forever more.”  
  
A soft golden glow suffused throughout her hand and the Swordsman felt the threatening grip on his chin fade into a pleasant rub as the Witch worked her magic. His muscles began relaxing of their own accord and his head listed to the side, the hat slipping off of his hair without a sound. The Witch was still before him, but now that she’d begun to cast her spell, he started to see her in a different light.  
  
Facing her on the battlefield hadn’t provoked this energy. When observing the Witch in the chaos of the attack on Adlersbrunn, he hadn’t taken the time to observe the swell of her hips, the curve of her rear, the pale, milky skin of her exposed thighs, or the way her breasts were cupped by her corset. Her sky-blue eyes radiated malicious glee and her lips were pursed in a confident smirk. The Witch truly _was_ beautiful.  
  
Watching his gaze traverse her body and features, she allowed herself to smile.  
  
“There we go. Isn’t that much better, my Swordsman? Now that you’re mine, you can serve me in _every_ capacity. And I am looking for something that I think you will find very enjoyable.”  
  
The bark around the Swordsman’s hands loosened, and he felt his fingers slip free of the tree’s grip. His legs, similarly, found their balance once again, but he couldn’t make himself stand, instead leaning to rest his back against the tree, arms at his sides. He was still in control of his limbs, but every time he tried to stand, sudden exhaustion sapped his strength.  
  
“What have you done to me, Witch?” The Swordsman growled, raising his arms briefly before giving up and letting them flop to his sides.  
  
“A little magic, my servant. “The Witch smirked down at him, placing her broom down against the tree he was leaning against. “To make you more…pliable. To lower your inhibitions. I expect that you will enjoy the results.”  
  
She leaned forward, kneeling in front of him as he thoughtlessly spread his legs, and shot her right hand forward, grasping his pelvis through his gi. He hissed, feeling her rub him as he stiffened underneath her touch, through the material. Whether it was her magic or the simple fact that the Witch was a remarkably attractive woman, the Swordsman found himself reacting appropriately.  
  
“Let us see…a little tug here, a little pull there, and…there we go!” The Witch clicked her tongue in satisfaction as his underclothing came off and his length jutted out from the folds of his garments. “That is better, is it not?” She grinned and rubbed his length with a gloved hand, making the skin stretch and shift beneath her fingers.  
  
The Swordsman was thick, long and heavy in her grip, and the Witch could feel him throbbing as she shifted her hand up and down on his length. He shuddered each time the leather rubbed against the grain of his dick, then sighed in relief as it smoothly slid back towards the head.  
  
“Fascinating. I trust this will serve me well for a very long time. But let us move along.” She tugged on his cock, one more time, then another, then another, and then he watched as she lowered her head to deliver a long, slow lick up his length, from balls to tip.  
  
The Witch may have been an evil sorceress, but she certainly knew her way around a man’s dick.  
  
She looked up at him, making eye contact through her platinum-blonde bangs and smiled. His eyes told her everything: he was enjoying this, even if he wouldn’t admit it yet. It was time for her to start to break that resolve.  
  
Giggling to herself, the Witch nuzzled into his ballsack one more time, then replaced her face with her left hand. Licking her way up, the Witch looked up at him and enclosed her lips around the head of the Swordsman’s cock.  
  
He grunted and she smiled around his length, moving her bangs out of the way and lowering herself further. Her left hand kept kneading his cum-laden balls, while her right stroked whatever parts of his dick she didn’t have in her mouth.  
  
The Swordsman, for his part, was content to lie back and enjoy, though he didn’t think his body would have let him move anyway. He couldn’t deny that the Witch looked beautiful bobbing her head up and down on his dick, hat tilting and blonde strands rustling as her nose brushed his pubic hair. She laughed with his length in her mouth, his pubic hair tickling her nostrils, and the vibrations brought a fresh wave of pleasure surging along his shaft. She took him in, rolled his balls in her hand, then came back up and came off with a pop to kiss the head of his length, stroke him, and giggle, only to repeat the process.  
  
Mouth goes down, sack gets tugged, mouth goes up, head gets kissed, shaft gets stroked, lips close around the head of his dick and suck furiously. Rinse and repeat, as it were, though the Witch slobbering up and down his length as she played with his testicles probably wasn’t anyone’s idea of “rinsing”. Still, it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience to get his dick worked up and down by her lips, hands, and throat.  
  
The Swordsman had stamina, but the Witch was intent on shattering his will. He had to resist the urge to cum. But she wasn’t going to make it easy, what with her mouth on his shaft and her hand on his testicles. Now that he thought of it, the Witch was bending over so much that he could see the crook of her ass as the cloth on her back fell between her buttocks, and the tiniest sliver of her right butt cheek…  
  
He groaned, but it was too late. As the sight of her rear entered his head, along with the idea of what he could do with it, the Witch began a furious suction motion with him fully in her mouth, her fingers rapidly working his balls back and forth as her tongue flicked out and licked the base of his shaft and the front of his nutsack. She hummed onto his dick, and looked up at him. The eye contact sealed the deal as the Swordsman beheld the confident gleam in her gaze.  
  
Strength surged through his arms and he put one hand on her shoulder and let the other tangle in her hair, beneath the brim of the Witch’s hat. The pressure in his pelvis broke, and the Swordsman came. She started to pull off as the first spurts welled up, but he held her down, forcing her to take another direct shot down her throat before allowing her up part of the way so the next filled her mouth. Pushing her off of him with a pop, he felt one more welling up in him as she kept kneading his ballsack and let loose on her face, scattering cum across her eyebrow, hair, and cheek, with some even hanging down from the brim of her hat.  
  
Still riding high from his orgasm, the Swordsman looked down at the Witch who had just sucked him off. The view was certainly memorable.  
  
Cum was strewn across the Witch’s right eyebrow and cheek, as well as across her hair and the bottom of the front of her hat. A clear bubble of his fluid popped from her left nostril, and her tongue was painted white as she held her mouth open, drooling his load and her own saliva in equal parts in a semi-constant drip down into her cleavage and onto his pelvis.  
  
The Witch’s azure eyes, however, still shined with glee, even as she closed her mouth and gulped, then held her tongue out to show that she had swallowed his load. She wasn’t done with him yet.  
  
And frankly, the Swordsman wasn’t sure if he was finished, either.  
  
“A most impressive display.” She conceded, wiping her cheek with a gloved hand and tossing aside the seed that clung to her fingers. Her throat bobbed and she let out a small belch, a small bubble of the Swordsman’s cum forming between her lips. She popped it with an outstretched finger and winked at him. “But I am not finished with you, my Swordsman.”  
  
She held out the hand, sticky with his cum, and raised it higher, surrounding it with a golden glow. The Swordsman was suddenly aware of how tired he was, though he supposed that he shouldn’t have been surprised given the size of his last orgasm.  
  
“ _Erections never die_!”  
  
As quickly as it had entered him, the exhaustion faded. He felt his arousal rise anew, his length stiffening as if he hadn’t just came moments before. The sweat beading his forehead and onyx hair, along with the ejaculate clinging to the Witch’s face, were now the only tells, although they certainly painted a vivid picture of what had just happened.  
  
“As long as you are mine, you will enjoy boundless carnal energy. I certainly cannot have my faithful Swordsman suffering from something as simple as a refractory period, now can I?”  
  
The Witch rose, steadying herself on her feet.  
  
“What more do you have planned for me, Witch? I will not submit.”  
  
Gripping the cloth that hung down from the front of her clothing in her left hand and picking up his hat from the ground, the Witch smiled. It was a wicked grin, the kind that communicated sadistic joy rather than affection or earned pride, but the Swordsman didn’t feel threatened. Not truly.  
  
“Dear Swordsman. You _will_ be mine, in time, though I will not dissuade you from such delusions if that is your desire.”  
  
With that, she lifted the cloth, and the Swordsman suddenly realized that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her golden pubic hair seemed to reflect the half-light of the moon, and he saw a clear drop of her arousal come falling down to the grass without a sound.  
  
Laughing again, the Witch planted his hat back on his head and placed her hands on his shoulders, planting her legs on either side of his thighs. Lowering herself slowly, she eased past his length, letting his head prod her entrance before moving backwards and sliding her clitoris against his tip.  
  
The Swordsman groaned. The slightest hint of being in her, brought before him only to be taken away.  
  
“Now you are teasing me, Witch. Do you lack the resolve to carry out your threats? If you truly believed yourself capable of making me your servant, you would act more decisively.”  
  
The challenge hung heavy in the air, rivaled only by the mist all around them. The Witch pursed her lips in a frown, then her expression softened and she let out another giggle.  
  
“Goading me into giving you what you want, Swordsman? You could have just asked. Very well.”  
  
Steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders and lowering her knees to the ground so she was kneeling in front of him, the Witch rubbed her cunt lips against him one more time before hoisting herself up and working herself down onto the Swordsman’s dick.  
  
He let out a rattling sound halfway through a moan and a hiss. The Witch was _tight_ , and she was hot, and he wasn’t sure which was better. Her cunt lips were sucking him in and then she was all around him, clutching at him as he penetrated her further, heat seeping into his dick as she buried him deeper inside.  
  
Their pelvises met with a light clapping sound as the Swordsman hilted his cock completely inside the Witch. His cheeks flushed as he realized that, yes, he was fucking the woman he’d been sent to slay. At least he was having fun, he mused, as he brought his hands up to rest on her waist.  
  
The Witch raised an eyebrow at him: even impaled on his dick, she still exuded the confidence of a woman who knew she’d earned it through her own accomplishments.  
  
“Regaining your strength, I see. Well, I expect you to do your part, servant.” Leaning into his grip, the Witch moved one of his hands from her waist onto her rear and thrust her chest into his face. The sudden movement made her breasts pop free of her corset, giving the Swordsman an eyeful of her tits as they swayed, free of their confines. They were gloriously soft to look upon, dotted with his cum and her drool, and he was surprised to notice a small mole dotting both of them above her nipples: a tiny imperfection that, somehow, made her breasts that much better to look upon.  
  
Then she shoved them into his face and he was pleased to find that they were even softer than they looked. His mouth was covered, but his eyelids fluttered against her skin as her chest filled his vision.  
  
“I will provide direction, but as one of my servants, I expect you to do your own work. Do we have an understanding?”  
  
The Swordsman’s only response was to grunt and knead her right ass cheek through her clothing. Her breasts jiggled in his face as she laughed, and then she raised herself upwards and fell back down on his length. She certainly _felt_ great around him, hugging him tightly on all sides and causing a pleasant friction as her walls rubbed against his unyielding shaft.  
  
They fell into a pattern, if it could be called that: he grabbed her by the ass to lift her up, then let her fall down and bury his cock inside of her with a slapping sound. Her breasts chafed against his eyes and face plate, but he didn’t care: she’d be more sore for it than he would, anyways, and at this angle he could feel her clit smack against the base of his dick each time she fell down on him, which made her tense and bear down on his dick that much tighter. Each time the Swordsman felt himself bottom out inside the Witch, she let out a tiny moan, a puff of air onto the top of his head.  
  
The Witch’s soft gasps started to rise in pitch and the pace of her bouncing on his dick began to speed up. He responded to her increased fervor with a slap on her rear and was rewarded by a whine and the sensation of her cunt tightening around his member. Given how greedily the Witch’s inner walls were sucking at him, the Swordsman figured that she’d earned yet another reward. Fumbling blindly with her swinging tits still blocking his vision, he moved the hand not on her ass to the base of his length and curled his finger so that his knuckle faced upward.  
  
Sure enough, the next time the Witch let herself fall onto his cock, her clit smacked into his outstretched knuckle. Immediately, she let out a keening screech that he was sure could be heard back at Adlersbrunn and came, cunt spasming onto his dick so furiously that he couldn’t help but lose control. The Swordsman joined her, feeling his balls tense as he unleashed his load inside the Witch. He felt her get even hotter as he clutched at her ass, knuckles going as white as he knew he was painting her insides.  
  
She leaned back and the Swordsman got a view of the blonde tuft of her pubic hair, her clit pressing against his pelvis, and her lower lips spread around his cock as he twitched and shot off inside her, filling her up with all the cum he could bring to bear. The Witch was probably still human, which meant that for all he knew, he’d just put a child in her.  
  
For some reason, he rather enjoyed the idea.  
  
Legs shaking, the Witch started to stand, then fell back down on him. The Swordsman’s cum seeped out from between her legs along with her own, coating his pelvis in their combined orgasmic aftermath.  
  
“Well done. For a new servant, you have performed admirably. Now, just a little bit more…” Her hands glowed golden and the Swordsman felt himself stiffen once more inside her. But more than that, he felt the strength returning to his limbs. Behind her, he twitched his toes, and smiled beneath his mask.  
  
“While that was enjoyable, I do not yet believe that you are-”  
  
The Swordsman cut her off. Lunging forward, cock still buried in her, he forced the Witch onto her back with a yelp. His balls swung forward and smacked against her cunt lips, while her wings spread out beneath her on either side and her legs kicked up in the air. But he held fast, holding his arms on either side of her thighs to lock her from standing up. An expression of shock ghosted across the Witch’s face, but it was gone so quickly that he wasn’t sure that it was ever there, replaced with the smirk of self-satisfied confidence.  
  
“Well, I suppose the tables have turned. What will you do with me now, my brave Swordsman?” Her voice took on a tone of mock terror and she pursed her lips in an expression of exaggerated pleading. She raising her right hand, cupping his cheek as he glared down at her. “You have your weapon. I am as vulnerable as I will ever be. What are you waiting for?”  
  
The Swordsman hesitated. Yes, he could easily reach over and draw his sword, but something stayed his hand. He didn’t want to end her. Not like this. Although being balls-deep in the Witch’s cunt was probably affecting his thinking.  
  
She smiled, then quickly returned to pretend-pleading. “You can make me do _anything_ , Swordsman. I was prepared to make you my eternal servant and now you have reversed our fortunes. What will you ask of me? What will you subject me to, now that I am in your power?”  
  
The Swordsman looked down at the space where his dick was stopped mid-fuck, her cunt still greedily sucking him in as he held himself above her. He looked at her breasts, resting high against her chest, nipples still hardened into peaks. His gaze wandered over to her facial features, allowing him to behold her flushed cheeks, her breath making mist in the cold air, the sweat beading her forehead, and the joy shining in her eyes. She was having a great deal of fun. But he had to show that he wasn’t under her power. When he spoke, it was in a low, dangerous tone that brooked no argument.  
  
“Get up and bend over on the grass.”  
  
The Witch couldn’t contain her joy. “As you wish, _master_.”  
  
His dick popped out of her slit as she stretched her legs, and he stepped backwards to give her space as she turned over onto her stomach. The Witch’s ass cheeks were still red from where he had smacked her as she got onto her hands and knees, then bent her head forward and presented her rear for him to behold. And while her puffy lower lips called for his dick to re-enter them, the Swordsman had another hole in mind.  
  
He grasped his dick in his right hand and stroked it, feeling the fluid from his previous orgasm combine with the Witch’s own arousal to form the exact lubrication he was looking for. Leaning over the Witch, the Swordsman placed his left hand on her ass cheek and used his other to hold himself steady as he prodded her rear entrance, spreading the fluid around her anal ring. He delighted in how she stiffened up under his poking and he tightened his grip on her butt.  
  
“Naughty, _naughty_ boy. If that is what you want, then I suppose I will do my best to enjoy it.”  
  
“If you consider me naughty, then you lack a degree of self-awareness, Witch.” Tilting her head back at him, the Witch smiled and wiggled her rear, inviting him to try again. He obliged, pressing into her ass again, and with one final push, he felt her anal ring part around him and suck him inside.  
  
The Swordsman took a deep, sudden breath. If her cunt had gripped him well, then her ass was a vice, holding him tighter than anything he’d ever experienced. He took care to sink into her slowly, feeling her widen around the head of his cock as he got deeper and deeper. The Witch grunted and groaned beneath him as he stretched her out, clawing at the grass, but he persisted in penetrating her ass.  
  
His fingers sank deep into her rear, and he took his hand off of his shaft to grab her other buttock in an equally tight hold. The Witch’s ass was so tight around him, he almost couldn’t keep going forward, but the Swordsman wasn’t going to stop now.  
  
With one final, enraptured push, he sank the last of his cock into her ass and groaned in relief as his ballsack swung forward and smacked against her cunt lips. He was in. Now to get a pace going.  
  
“I will not kill you. But you have been, as you would say, _'very naughty_ '. So perhaps this will teach you a lesson.” The Swordsman didn’t give her a chance to respond, though he figured that she’d be too busy adjusting to the sensation of his dick inside of her butt to vocalize anything coherent. Leaning back, he secured his grip on her rear and withdrew slowly, drawing out the process.  
  
Just when he felt the crown of his length pressing back against her anal ring, indicating that he was almost out of her rear, the Swordsman gave the Witch two powerful slaps on each of her ass cheeks and shoved himself forward again as she snapped backwards in response to his smacks, thrusting herself back onto his cock as he pushed forward.  
  
A howl ripped from the Witch’s throat, and he heard the telltale rattle in her vocalization that told him that she was enjoying this. The Swordsman smiled beneath his mask.  
  
He rocked her back and forth on his dick, plumbing her depths and stretching her rear around his girth, enjoying how the force of his thrusts sent ripples along her butt and let him behold how her ass quaked beneath the effort of his fucking. Whenever he felt her relaxing beneath his pattern, he gave her a pair of quick-but-forceful slaps to her rear, already pert and red from his repeated strikes, forcing her to pay attention.  
  
Although it was probably hard for the Witch to _not_ pay attention to the sizeable dick in her ass. But the Swordsman wasn’t taking any chances.  
  
The Witch seemed to be in over her head. Not only was she tearing clumps out of the grass, but she was also shoving her face against the dirt as her tongue hung loosely out from her lips as she drooled, her tits pressing down and rubbing against the ground from his efforts. The Swordsman couldn’t see her expression, but he could tell from her ragged breathing that her eyes were glassing over from buttfuck-induced euphoria. She was having entirely too much fun getting her ass plowed by one of her enemies, but he couldn’t blame her: he hadn’t foreseen having such great sex with his foe, either.  
  
His hips shot backward and forward like a jackhammer, gaining speed as the Witch’s body was thrust to and fro beneath him. The grip, heat, and sheer naughtiness of her ass on his dick was bringing the Swordsman to his limit and he felt his climax rising within him as his cum-heavy nuts seized up. Giving her butt a final pair of slaps, he released his grip and instead reached for her wings, leveraging himself to pound her even harder and deeper than before.  
  
“Here it comes, Witch! This is the least you deserve!”  
  
Before she could respond, he let loose, feeling his cock spasm as he filled her ass with his nut. Releasing her wings, he returned his hands to her rear to hold her fully down onto him, feeling his balls rest against her lower lips, only for her to cry out into the dirt and bear down on him suddenly as she enjoyed an anal-induced orgasm. Sputtering and slobbering into the dirt, the Witch shrieked and whined and gushed onto his ballsack as the Swordsman came powerfully, emptying his cum deep in her bowels.  
  
Bracing himself against the grass, the Swordsman pulled himself out, popping the head past her entrance, which winked as he withdrew. Another shot of cum was thrown out across her back, landing on her clothing, in her wings, even draping across the back of her hat and into her blonde hair. Flipping the Witch onto her side, the Swordsman furiously stroked his shaft, letting his load loose wherever he could. A spurt of seed was flung across her thighs, while another splattered against her pelvis. A third streaked across her breasts and torso, while the final one landed in her open mouth and dripped onto her cheek.  
  
The Swordsman took several deep breaths, hand still on his dick, and looked down at the Witch.  
  
She was absolutely _covered_ in his cum. It leaked out of her ass and pussy and pooled in the grass, while her thighs, torso, tits and face dripped with his various loads. It was even strewn across her shins and forearms, the latter of which were draped across her stomach and under her head.  
  
He supposed that he had her magic to thank for this bounty: under normal circumstances, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to produce so much so close together on his own. The Witch’s expression radiated pure, unadulterated satisfaction. Her gaze was hazy and unfocused, her tongue lolling out of her grinning mouth as she panted, overcome by her anal-induced climax and feeling his fill her up and coat her. His muscles suddenly felt sore and he fell to his knees across from her, releasing his grip on his cock.  
  
“Let that…be a lesson to you…Witch.”  
  
Her vision cleared and she looked across at him, glee shining in her eyes.  
  
“A most enjoyable lesson that was, Swordsman. For the both of us, I can see. It may surprise you to know that you were less under my power than you thought. Or would you have me believe that none of that was of your own volition?”  
  
“What…do you mean?” The Swordsman was too tired to follow up, instead gazing blankly across at the Witch.  
  
“Come now. You know how my magic works. I cannot bind you against your will. Certainly, once you are in my power, I exert a level of control over you, but actually _becoming_ my servant requires your consent. And even once you are mine, you retain a degree of independence. You _wanted_ this.” She reached a cum-covered hand out to him, grasping him by the chin and bringing him closer. Removing his mask with a flick of her wrist, the Witch lay her lips against the scarred mouth of the Swordsman, giving him a kiss colored by the salt of his own cum. Tasting it from her lips felt…oddly fitting.  
  
She smiled, and for once, the Swordsman didn’t see anything ulterior in the gesture. He obligingly returned her grin with one of his own. They were still enemies. But they had an understanding of each other now.  
  
Limbs wobbling, she unsteadily raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Her broom appeared in her grip, and she shakily rose and sat on it as it began to float.  
  
“You will see me again. I will yet make you my closest ally.” The Witch blew him a kiss, and the Swordsman blushed.  
  
“In the meantime, I look forward to the next time we may enjoy each other, Swordsman.”  
  
With that, the Witch flew off into the night sky on her broom, still bare to the world and leaving a trail of their sexual fluids in her wake.  
  
The Swordsman stood on sore legs, tucked himself into his gi and set off for Adlersbrunn. His mission to the Witch’s woods may not have yielded the result he had expected, but he knew that it had turned out for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed my work, you can find more of it at my tumblr (lewdsmokesoldier) or my Hentai Foundry page (also lewdsmokesoldier). Drop me a line if there's anything you'd like me to work on!


	2. House Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an amorous encounter with the Witch in the Black Forest, the Swordsman returns to Adlersbrunn to report his failure to his master. When his master unexpectedly advises him to seek the Witch out once again, the Swordsman may find her easier to track down than he expected, given her unusual abode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With tumblr's NSFW apocalypse, the only reasonable thing to do is get more familiar with this site. I debated between adding a new chapter to this story or having this be a separate work as part of a "series", but I'll go with a chapter for now.  
> I've got a third chapter planned, but I'm gonna hold off on it for a bit since I have Gency week coming up, plus a holiday Gency story I want to do, so look forward to those.

The Swordsman had expected many reactions from his master upon his return from the Black Forest. Disappointment that he had failed in his quest to slay the Witch and that he had stooped so low as to have sex with her instead. Frustration that he had fallen into his old hedonistic habits. Embarrassment as to how his failure reflected on his master. What he was met with instead was far from what he had foreseen.  
  
“I do not understand, Master.” Of course, he hadn’t lied to the Monk: during his journey back to Adlersbrunn he had resolved to tell the whole truth. If he hadn’t, his master would have been able to tell: the Swordsman wasn’t very good at hiding his true feelings, even behind a mask and full-body clothing.  
  
“Did I stutter, my student?” If he could, the Monk would have raised a mechanical eyebrow. The tentacles on his face were static, but the Swordsman could imagine them curling into a facsimile of an incredulous expression. “Perhaps your hearing requires attention-”  
  
The Swordsman raised his hand to cut his master off. “I do not intend any disrespect. But when I return from a mission to assassinate an enemy and openly admit that I instead had intercourse with her, I do not expect the response to be ‘Good for you, my student’.”  
  
“Do you dispute that it _was_ good?” The Monk let out a mechanical chortle. “If so, that is unfortunate. I am under the impression that the Witch is very attractive, for a human. Perhaps her method leaves something to be desired?”  
  
“No, I did not mean…it was fantastic, but-”  
  
“Then I congratulate you! Should I inform the Lord that I wish to make a toast to honor this occasion?”  
  
“I believe that would be unwise.”  
  
“Hm, perhaps.” The Monk rolled one of his floating orbs between his fingers, watching the moonlight glimmer off of its many sides. “I imagine, however, that the Gunslinger would consider this highly amusing, and perhaps the Demon Hunter might as well. If they are not too busy with each other by this time of night, of course.”  
  
His student threw up his hands in exasperation. “If you are playing a game with me, my master, I admit that I do not follow. I am also slightly frustrated.”  
  
“Be at peace. I am not joking though I concede that your reaction has been highly amusing.” The Monk placed a hand on the Swordsman’s left shoulder. “What I intend to say is that while you did not carry out my original intent your actions may yet prove to be for the better. If the Witch could be turned from her path of darkness, think of how much suffering she could alleviate with her magic!”  
  
“I…had not considered that.”  
  
“And that is why you are the student and I am the teacher.” The Swordsman rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, letting out a surly grunt. “I only jest, I only jest. But in all seriousness, this may be helpful. Both for the wider interests of Adlersbrunn and the two of you individually. I recommend that you seek her out again and see what comes of it.”  
  
“Are you implying that we had some manner of fleeting connection?”  
  
“No, clearly you and her were connected for a great while longer.” The Swordsman coughed, cheeks reddening beneath his mask. His master could be crude in a way that belied his serene exterior and habit of speaking in metaphor. “And whatever happens, you should rest tonight, my student. With all the effort you exerted, I am honestly shocked that you made it here without collapsing.”  
  
The Monk was right. Even as he listened, the Swordsmen felt his vision blurring and his limbs aching and knew that he had pushed himself past his breaking point this night. “You are correct, my master. I will bathe away the day’s dirt and sleep away my weariness. If I encounter the Witch again, it will not be tonight.” The warrior bowed.  
  
“Have a pleasant evening, master.”  
  
The Swordsman stepped into the castle in search of hot water, while his master chuckled to himself and followed apace. “I would hope not tonight, my student. Even with magical assistance, five orgasms in less than two hours cannot be healthy for a human body, although I doubt she is feeling any less sore than you must be.”

* * *

The sun had risen two more times since that fateful night. He wasn’t sure why, but the Swordsman knew that if he was to meet the Witch a second time, it would have to be tonight. He was not practiced in any form of divination, but gut feelings could be a fine substitute. So, following a muttered conversation with his master and a nod of farewell at the Gunslinger (who appeared to have spent the last two days dallying about near and in the Demon Hunter’s quarters and had only recently elected to leave the castle, albeit with great reluctance on the part of the two people involved), the Swordsman was off once again to traverse the Black Forest. He did not know what he was looking for, but he knew that his path would cross with the Witch’s once again.  
  
He was already regretting that he’d chosen to leave as the sun began to set, rather than in the dark of night. Certainly, the sun falling down over the horizon cast gloriously defined shadows against the thin treebranches, but the glare also stung his eyes something fierce and flared off of his mask. If he wasn’t careful to block the sunset with his hat, he’d give away his position to anything with eyes that stalked these woods.  
  
That was his primary concern, anyway. Until he heard the steady _thump, thump, thump_ of heavy footfalls. He froze, then melted behind a boulder away from where the sound was coming from. Bending over, the Swordsman placed his palm against the ground and felt the vibrations in the soil.  
  
A slight drag, followed by a crunching and lifting sound and ending with a stabbing _thunk_ before repeating again. Whatever was making so much noise, it had claws: a bird’s talons, perhaps? He’d heard of the massive flightless birds that lived south of the land the Alchemist called “home”, but even the tales she’d described had never ascribed them the size needed to make such heavy footfalls.  
  
He was about to cut his losses and head back to the Castle when he saw mist creeping through the trees, weaving to fill the space between the trunks. Its spread was unnaturally precise and targeted, as if directed by something intelligent.  
  
Which it probably _was_ , the Swordsman realized. As the last vestiges of sunlight winked away over the mountains, the mist surged forward and enveloped him, and the sounds of heavy walking became muffled by the hiss of the low-lying fog before disappearing from his hearing entirely. The last time he’d seen such an unnatural haze, the Witch hadn’t been far behind. He was close. He _had_ to be.  
  
And if the mist had been heralded by the footfalls, then he knew where he had to start looking. Against his better judgement, the Swordsman stood up, careful not to touch the boulder, and crept in the direction he’d last heard the noises from.  
  
He didn’t have to move far. As he ducked beneath a vine hanging between a split log and a nearby shrub and paused to see if anything had heard him, a shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Slowly, the Swordsman turned around and nearly yelped in shock.  
  
He had been correct. The sound he’d heard _had_ been made by something with talons. Two massive, black bird’s legs thicker than most of the tree trunks he’d passed stood before him, stretching towards the sky more than three times his height. Three digits on the front and one in the back were each the size of his own body, tipped with talons as long as his _odachi_. While unexpected and unsettling, the Swordsman was far more surprised by what lay at the top of the legs.  
  
Instead of a massive bird, the legs grew directly into, or perhaps from, a house. It wasn’t the largest dwelling he’d ever seen, given that he’d just left a castle, but it was larger than the typical one-family dwelling. There were four rows of windows with two at each level on the sides he could see, so he had to assume that there were four floors, but he’d spent enough time in the forest to know that appearances could be deceiving. The fact that he couldn’t see any shadows moving through the lights shining in the windows only confirmed his suspicions. He couldn’t trust his eyes to tell him the truth of the matter.  
  
The Swordsman was no botanist, much less a dendrologist, so he couldn’t begin to guess what tree had been harvested to make the dark blue-black wood that constituted the house’s walls. It certainly hadn’t come from the Black Forest: as misleading as it was, most of trees were not _literally_ black. The roof shingles glared in the sunset, giving off the appearance of sharpened, polished obsidian.  
  
The Swordsman had to admit that besides the massive bird legs holding up the house by its base and the walkway extending out into the open air, the house was not of unusual character. Certainly it was larger and more opulent than the usual woodland dwelling, but he sensed nothing inherently unnatural about its construction. It obeyed the laws of physics, geometry, and architecture, rather than flouting them with the magic it no doubt was maintained with. As he took a step towards it, the fleeing shadows seemed to form a face against the wood, with two windows as the eyes, two more as the nose, and the doorway as a mouth, but the image faded before he could be sure.  
  
He took another step and froze as the massive bird legs turned towards him and brought the front of the house with them, searching for a solid grip in the grass as they shifted their angle. The Swordsman was deliberating his next move when the legs wobbled and began to lower themselves, folding down like a chicken at rest with a drawn-out creaking sound. Mouth agape beneath his mask, he watched the legs scrunch themselves up completely underneath the house until they fell from view as the dwelling came to rest on the forest floor. Now it really passed for a regular, if extravagant cabin. If he hadn’t seen its legs earlier, he would have no cause to suspect its true origins.  
  
And if it had lowered itself to his level, then he really didn’t have any other choice other than to head inside. The Swordsman might be misinterpreting a habit of the house as an invitation, but he couldn’t pass up this chance to see for himself what lay past its threshold.

* * *

  
He was lucky the door was open. Even for a man trained and experienced as he was in stealth, opening something with a rusty hinge was difficult without giving himself away. Even so, the Swordsman was careful to stay low and glance around the corner of the opening, careful not to touch the wood of the entryway before he was sure the coast was clear.  
  
He scanned the first room. An elaborate black-glass chandelier with several unnaturally bright crystals scattered across it hung above the doorway and blanketed the room in a soft golden glow, a shade lighter than the orange-yellow carpeting on the dark planks of the floor. The hallway only extended in one direction in front of him, chandeliers spread at regular intervals along the ceiling in a pattern consistent with the doorways that lined both walls. He chanced a step inside, careful to avoid touching the creaky wood, and didn’t immediately become afflicted with some horrible curse. No cruel machination sprung to life with a singular purpose. That was progress. Now he needed to decide what he was looking for and find it.  
  
It was clear that the Witch had some hand in this: as he moved down the hallway, he recognized the symbol of her magic on the closed doors he passed. A circle with an arrow pointing upward above it, flanked by two wings. The Swordsman supposed that it made sense given that her most powerful magic revolved around raising the deceased in a what seemed a cruel mockery of the cycle of life. He had survived a near-death experience, but he was glad that he had been healed through more conventional means. He had no desire to dabble in the dark arts.  
  
Even as the idea entered his mind, he paused and amended his thought process. While he would never give himself over to black magic, he had to admit that the last time he’d been subjected to it at the hands of the Witch, the results had been…more than a little enjoyable. And his master was certainly no stranger to calling upon ethereal forces, but employed them benignly. Perhaps he should re-evaluate his opinion in a more relaxed setting.  
  
For the moment the Swordsman advanced down the hall, his eyes on a new target. He had seen the slanted wood angling towards him at the end of the walkway that indicated that the hall doubled back into a stairway to the second floor, but his primary interest lay in the beam of light that extended from an open doorway to the right before the stairs. Padding along silently, he reached the doorway and leaned forward to peer around the edge.  
  
As he suspected, the Witch _was_ here, leaning over an elaborate desk with multiple shelves, inkwells, candleholders and book ends. She’d shoved her plush chair to the side to better lean over whatever massive grimoire she was reading, taken from the bookshelf to the left that remained heavy with tomes. A red, glittering curtain blocked his view of the right side of the room, though the Swordsman suspected that it was connected to one of the rooms whose closed doors he had passed.  
  
Most of the Witch’s accessories had been removed. The gold rings were no longer on her wrist, nor did she have a book buckled to her belt. Her wings were gone and in their place were two orange indentations that he assumed were where they connected to her body or clothing. Even her hat, gloves and boots were gone, the former resting on the corner of the chair to her left.  
  
Even though she hadn’t actually taken off that much clothing, he was still taken aback by how exposed she was. With her legs and forearms bare, she really was only wearing clothing on her midriff, chest and shoulders. And judging by the puckered, tight-looking asshole and cunt the Swordsman saw when the cloth covering her rear slid to the side as the Witch leaned over to peruse a particularly pertinent passage, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, either.  
  
He wasn’t ashamed at his arousal. Not only was he getting a view of two of her holes that he’d buried his dick in not two days ago, but this point of view let him appreciate how her breasts hung low even as they were constrained by her corset, or how her ass stayed pert and deliciously grabbable framed against her shifted clothing.  
  
The Swordsman didn’t know what about this woman made him feel this way, but he wanted her again. _Needed_ her again. And it had to be on his own terms this time.  
  
Unfortunately for him the carpet did not extend into the side room. If he wanted to enter, he would have to risk stepping on the wooden floor and potentially alerting her to his presence. But he had to take that risk. The longer he stood here with an erection, the more likely it was that he would give himself away. So he spread his toes and gently took a step onto the wood, and was rewarded with silence. Redistributing his weight had the desired effect.  
  
Now he had two options. He could tense and leap the remaining distance, or glide silently across the floor. Both were representative of his training. In the spirit of challenging himself, he elected to move across the wood, moving painfully slowly and desperately hoping that she wouldn’t find cause to turn around. Every movement forward took an eternity, but he had yet to give himself away.  
  
At long last, the Swordsman took the final step. He’d stopped breathing now, and his lungs were started to complain as he listened to her hum to herself while she flipped pages. He was so close to the Witch now that if he leaned forward he’d press his hat against her ass, now in line with it thanks to his lowered posture. It really was a gorgeous rear: he had some fond memories of groping, kneading, and slapping it. He expected this time to be just as enjoyable.  
  
Now he was ready. It was time for the serpent, for the _dragon_ , to strike.  
  
Without a sound, he raised himself to his full height and tossed his hat behind him. Before it could hit the ground, he thrust his body forward, pressing his chest against the Witch’s back and putting one hand on her belly, the second on her chin. Her yowl of shock was cut off as he leaned onto her shoulder and whispered in her ear.  
  
“My turn.”  
  
The Witch, for her part, had been expecting the Swordsman to return after their time together. She hadn’t anticipated him to slink directly up to her, in her own lair, and come back to her like _this_.  
  
“I nearly turned you into a frog! What were you _thinking_ , sneaking up on a witch? Do you have no regard for your own safety?” She couldn’t hide the bewilderment in her voice, her tone rising to something resembling panic.  
  
“Oh, you are concerned about my wellbeing? I am _touched_ , sorceress.” To emphasize just how touched he felt, the Swordsman moved his hand from her belly down and around the clothing covering her front, rubbing his finger against her slit. He felt her tense beneath his grip, and smiled beneath his mask.  
  
“I only mean that turning you into a frog would be a terrible waste of…ah!…of a remarkable male specimen!” As she spoke, the Swordsman slipped a finger into her, gently rubbing her clit and throwing off her focus. “If you were made into an amphibian, the only solution, of course, would be to kiss you and make it better.”  
  
“ _Only_ a kiss?” He teased, turning her head slightly so that her cheek was pressing against his face mask. She winced at the cold, and he moved the hand inside her to unfasten the mask and drop it to the floor.  
  
“I am not going to suck off a frog, thank you very muc-MFF!” The Swordsman cut her off, then, inserting the finger that had been inside her cunt into her mouth. The Witch hummed around his digit and sucked diligently, cleaning her arousal off of his finger, then letting it free with a pop.  
  
“Feeling aggressive, are we? I suppose you have earned your fun.”  
  
“I certainly have. But first, a little payback…” The Swordsman smirked and moved his hand back down to her slit, extending his index finger and slipping it back inside of her, relishing how she gasped and tightened around the intrusion. He began a slow rocking movement, keeping his finger still and simply pushing their bodies back and forth to stimulate her. As they shifted in front of her desk, he readjusted his pelvis to allow his erection greater freedom in its confines and ground it against her ass, letting her butt pillow his covered length and grind against him.  
  
The Witch was beyond paying attention, grabbing at his legs and hair and pushing back against him when he rocked his body away from hers. It was time to pick up the pace. He inserted a second finger and smiled as she shuddered and tightened around him. Gliding his other hand to her right breast, he pulled down on the top, letting her chest fall free and catching her nipple in between the pinky and ring finger and squeezing.  
  
“Swordsman…” The Witch let out a low, crooning whine and he could feel her jaw tense as she bit her lip. She didn’t need to say anything else. Emboldened, the Swordsman pawed at her breast, pinching and grasping the skin and her nipple with whatever he could get his digits on while digging the fingers on his other hand deeper into her, rolling his wrist to draw his nails along the walls of her cunt. Thrusting his hips out forward, he felt her rear clap back against his covered groin and huffed through his nose. He’d be inside her yet.  
  
With a growl, he furiously alternated between manhandling her breast and squeezing her nipples with his right hand, keeping his left occupied circling his fingers in and out of her cunt. His hips shot forward and back and when he looked down her could see her ass ripple as it met the spot where his cock tented his clothing. It had been only two days, but he had been longing to behold her bare rear at his mercy.  
  
The Swordsman kept grinding against her each time his covered dick rubbed between her ass cheeks. He wouldn’t cum like this, but it certainly felt good to have her buttocks around his cock if only for fleeting moments. The Witch definitely enjoyed the contact if her repeated attempts to push back into him each time he withdrew were any indication. But he held her fast, working his dexterous fingers along the walls of her cunt and wildly groping her tit, keeping control of the pace of her movement.  
  
Her breaths got faster and heavier as her hips began to flail and gyrate in his grip. The Witch wasn’t just trying to feel his dick against her ass, though she no doubt had that in mind. But more importantly, she was trying to fuck herself on his fingers, to drive his palm against her clit and ride out an orgasm on his hand. He wasn’t going to let her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t let her cum. He just wouldn’t allow her to be in charge as she did so.  
  
“Vile sorceress.” He whispered in her ear, but despite her actions he couldn’t bring himself to sound genuinely vengeful. She’d tormented an innocent community for years, and been party to all manner of vile rituals, malign phenomena and disasters. But at the moment, all the Swordsman wanted to do was make her cum on his command, knowing she was only doing it because he was telling her it was permitted. “You are enjoying this, being under _my_ control? Perhaps I should stop if this is not a punishment.”  
  
“If you stop,” she began, voice hoarse and throaty as she struggled to force his fingers to keep working at her cunt and tit, “I will make good on my threat to turn you into a newt.”  
  
He smiled. “Frog, not newt. But I am loathe to torment you. It is not in my nature to take joy in harm, no matter how deserving the recipient. So…” The Swordsman leaned forward and nipped at the Witch’s ear, lightly grazing the cartilage with his teeth as he pressed his cock between her ass cheeks. He delighted in how the swell of her butt kept him from pushing forward fully: the Witch was certainly blessed with a sizable yet firm backside.  
  
He withdrew his fingers slightly and took his hand off of her breast, and the Witch tensed beneath his frame. He took a breath and held himself completely still, feeling the Witch’s pulse beneath his fingers and against his chest. His own heartbeat throbbed in his ears as his length ached to be inside the woman in front of him. But he restrained himself and finally elected to end the Witch’s torment, and advance his own satisfaction. With a gasp he buried his fingers back inside of her, rubbing the base of his thumb against her clit while taking as much of her tit in his hand as he could and squeezing, running his fingers along the underside of her breast as he did so.  
  
He didn’t need to say anything. The Witch obliged his unspoken verdict and came, crying out into the wooden walls of her home as her grip on the back of his head and his thigh tightened along with her walls convulsing around his intrusive digits. He encouraged her by latching his lips onto the side of her neck and sucking hard enough that he knew he’d leave a mark where everyone could see it. The Swordsman was no vampire, but still the sensation of her skin underneath his teeth was unexpectedly invigorating. He felt completely in control of her, and that was a powerful pleasure in and of itself. The Witch kicked her legs out into the desk in front of her, heedless of how her toes slammed into the wood with a dull thud . She’d have fallen over if he hadn’t been prepared for the shift in weight. The Swordsman’s view over her shoulder was replaced with a mess of blonde hair as she tilted her head towards him, pushing him off of her neck and spinning him so he fell back into her chair with a startled grunt.  
  
He assumed she didn’t mean to almost knock him over, given how that would have been more than a little embarrassing for the both of them. As things were, he was now laying back in her chair with the Witch leaning back into him, riding out her orgasm on his fingers, her left hand now on her own breast to mirror his grip. He was glad that she had finally come: truth be told, his hands were starting to ache a bit from the flurry of his motions in her and on her. But he still hadn’t entered her and he intended to address that when she was in a state to respond.  
  
The Witch adjusted herself so that she was sitting on his right thigh, cheek half-turned towards him, eyelids still fluttering. “That was…”  
  
“Fantastic”? The Swordsman allowed himself a chuckle at her scowl. He was far from conceited but he liked playing up his talents when possible. He was highly educated and well-trained, after all.  
  
“I was going to say _perplexing_ , my Swordsman.” For a woman who had just been brought to squirming orgasm she was staying in control quite well, her flushed cheeks and the sweat beading her brow the only evidence on her face of her recent loss of control. “Last we spoke, we parted under the assumption that we would meet again. But while I recognized your approach and allowed your entry, I was expecting something less…”  
  
She trailed off and made a circular motion with her fingers. The words escaped her.  
  
“Lewd? Yes, lewd seems to be the right word. I was anticipating that you would want to talk rather than lay with me, although I will not pretend that what actually occurred was unwelcome.” She giggled and for a moment the Swordsman could pretend that she was just a regular village woman, rather than a mistress of vile and dangerous magicks. But he supposed that those weren’t mutually exclusive: she certainly indulged in many of the same things “regular” women did from what he could gather of their experiences together. “I rather enjoyed it, as you no doubt can determine.”  
  
The Witch raised a hand to grasp the Swordsman underneath his chin and look into his eyes. He remembered that this was only the second time she’d seen his face: the old burn scars scattered across his cheeks and jaw, crisscrossing with the deeper cicatrixes from the same incident or the shallower ones of later battles. He turned away.  
  
“The question remains. _Why_ are you here, Swordsman? Why did you come to my lair?”  
  
He remained silent. A memory flitted through his mind like a cloud on a clear day: beady, intelligent raven eyes staring down at him from treetops, relaying information to their master. Or, more notably, the absence of any such ravens tonight.  
  
“You did not know I was coming. You carelessly left your abode open to any intruder, and it was only by chance that I entered when I did. You were unprepared for my incursion.” She opened her mouth to let out some further falsehood when he held up a hand and stopped her. “There were no birds outside. I was watchful. So unless you have some magical detection within your house, which would not surprise me given that I witnessed it _walking around on crow’s legs_ , why lie?”  
  
The Witch bit her lip and let out a puff of air through her nostrils. He recognized that gesture: he did it himself when he was holding back a laugh or enduring frustration.  
  
“You win, Swordsman. I did not know you were coming or that you had arrived, and your entry to my home was undetected.”  
  
“Then why mislead me?”  
  
“Because, Swordsman, I would prefer others to believe that I am the omnipotent, omnipresent observer that the villagers seem to believe I am. It means I have to spend less energy on actually spying on everyone if they _think_ they are always being watched. Now, answer my question: why are you here?”  
  
He gritted his teeth. He’d hope to stall for more time to think of a more satisfying answer than “sex”. He couldn’t.  
  
“I came to find you.” The Witch crossed her arms underneath her chest and rolled her eyes, propping her breasts up. The Swordsman didn’t bother to disguise his stare, enjoying how her chest pillowed up above her forearms. If she didn’t want him to look, she could always cover them with her hands.  
  
“To join me? I would expect you to wait longer before making that decision.”  
  
“You are correct on that second point. I am not here to pledge myself to your service.”  
  
“Then why come at all?”  
  
“I do not know. Is that a satisfying answer?” The Swordsman was out of options. He couldn’t dodge her investigation any more without looking like a fool. She’d been too quick to admit to her lie. “I do not know why I came to find you, other than the fact that my master has some notion that you may be turned from your path. Truthfully, I am still not sure why I did not slay you when I had the chance, given how many have suffered at your hands. Whatever stayed my hand then and did so again today now frustrates me to no end.”  
  
The Witch was silent for a long moment, fingers tapping her sides as she furrowed her brow and examined him. The Swordsman had no notion what she might be looking for, but he was too frustrated to care. The bitterness had overtaken his lust, and he found himself too distracted to properly appreciate how her naked thighs pressed against his covered length. Of course now that he was thinking about it he could feel himself respond appropriately.  
  
“You are forgetting something obvious, Swordsman. Given what your first course of action was, it is rather clear to me that you sought me out to seek a repeat of what happened when we first met. In which case…” She leaned back on his thigh, pressing against the arm of the chair to give him a profile view of her chest. With a wink, she tweaked her left breast, pushing it to the side so that it swung against her right tit and sent the two swaying hypnotically.  
  
“What took you so long?”  
  
He stiffened beneath her thigh and the Witch bit her lip as her gaze went down to where his cock must have been prodding bare skin. Crossing her legs over each other, she leaned her weight onto his erection and he groaned.  
  
“Just like that? Are there not questions left to answer?” Even as he spoke, the Swordsman couldn’t help but move his hands back onto her, shifting her so that his dick slid out of his clothing backwards and pressed against his stomach, pillowed by her buttocks.  
  
“Are you really interested in questions at a time like this, Swordsman?” She punctuated her words by grinding and pressing her ass against his erection. The Swordsman couldn’t help but moan under the pressure she exerted every time she let her weight fall into the grinding and rolling motion against his cock. “We can clear everything up afterwards. How about fucking me first?”  
  
His cock jumped and he felt a not-insignificant drop of precum ooze out from the head of his shaft and roll down his dick. The Witch giggled and squeezed her rear tighter around his cock: clearly, she had felt that.  
  
“Ah, you enjoy tawdry words, I see. Well then, Swordsman,” she began, lifting herself up with one hand and navigating her other between her legs to pull his length forward between her thighs. With a sigh, she let herself fall back down, watching as the Swordsman’s dick stood up erect in front of her slit, the head jutting out towards her knees. She leaned back and whispered in his ear so softly that he wasn’t sure he’d heard her properly at first. “Fuck me.”  
  
The Swordsman needed no further encouragement. He had no idea why, but hearing the Witch’s soft, sinister voice speak so lewdly had reminded him that, yes, he _had_ come here to fuck her. He just hadn’t wanted to admit it until he’d heard it from her. Though he still had concerns that needed to be addressed, he was just going to have to hold off on getting what he _wanted_ to get what he _needed_.  
  
A terrible burden, but one he was all too happy to bear.  With a grunt, he lifted her off of him with his right hand and grasped the base of his cock with his left, keeping it upright as he lowered her onto him.  
  
The two of them groaned in unison and he leaned forward into the Witch’s shoulder as she leaned back into his chest. She was as tight and as hot as he remembered and the Swordsman slotted himself into her with a familiar friction, scraping against her walls gently as he filled her more and more. Shuffling forward so that his balls hung off the front of the seat, he grabbed the bottom of her right thigh in one hand and her left buttock in his other, holding her steady as her cunt sank down onto his dick. From this angle, he couldn’t see her face, her tits, or where he was penetrating her, but he could enjoy her ass pressing against him and certainly hear every little moan and whine she let out as he wrapped the Witch around his cock.  
  
At long last he hilted himself in her with a small clapping sound and let out a sigh, feeling her quiver and bear down on his dick, begging him to start pumping. Or maybe she was _actually_ saying that: the Swordsman was so focused on the impending ride that he wasn’t sure if she was voicing her desired to ride him, or if he was imagining it. It wouldn’t make a difference soon, anyway. Gripping her ass and thigh tightly, he hoisted her up on his own strength, feeling her walls clench down on him as he withdrew, then snapping his hips up as he released his grip to meet her falling slit halfway with a _smack_. The Witch panted and squirmed, but he knew he’d have to do something different. The chair didn’t afford much movement.  
  
Gripping her carefully on her stomach and thigh, he rose from the seat and carried her over to the hallway without letting himself slip out of her, then let himself fall backward onto the carpet. Before she could protest, he casually spun her around on his length so that she was facing him, then flipped over so that she was lying on her back on the carpet, face-to-face and cunt-to-cock with him, legs extending out behind him towards the wall.  
  
The Witch opened her mouth, but he preempted whatever she was going to say by taking her lips in his own. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t protest, moaning into the kiss as he drew his hips back and began to fuck her in earnest.  
  
The floor creaked under them as The Swordsman laid into her, withdrawing his dick till only the tip remained inside before burying himself back into her, feeling her walls tighten around him each time he thrust forward. He alternated between kissing her and breathing heavily into her ear, letting his weight fall onto her whenever his ballsack clapped against her ass. He relied more on shifting his whole body into the thrusts, rather than just shoving his hips back and forth. By how the Witch was reacting, moaning obscenities into his ear when they weren’t kissing and crying out into his mouth when they were, he could tell it was working. This way, he had deeper and more fulfilling thrusts, even if they were slower and probably would make the Witch’s shoulders ache afterwards. It certainly felt better for him, too: her breasts pressed against his chest, jiggling as he moved, and he could feel the Witch tense up around the base of his dick each time he hilted himself fully into her while feeling her walls drag against his cock as he withdrew or penetrated her. He was hard and fast, but not rough, not this time. He wanted this to be different from their first encounter in the woods.  
  
His ballsack tensed and the pressure got tighter and tighter each time he felt it smack against her rear, pressed as it was against the ground. He was getting close, and judging by her glassy eyes and the tightening intervals he’d felt around his length, the Swordsman knew the Witch was already riding the highest wave of pleasure she could experience. Now it was time to seal the deal. The Swordsman broke off a kiss to catch his breath, and immediately the Witch resumed blabbering at him.  
  
“Fuck me, fuck me, keep _fucking_ me I--ah! Curse you, I...do not _dare_ stop!” He couldn’t deny the effect her words were having on him. He didn’t know how or why, but knowing that he’d been able to do this to her on his own was heady in its own right. And he was close.  
  
“I...in? Or out?” He stammered, feeling the tension and heat rise. He wouldn’t have a choice soon. By how her voice rattled and jumped, so would she.  
  
“In! In! _Fill me!_ ”  
  
Who was he to deny her? The Swordsman let himself loose, pressure exploding into a diffuse warmth as he creamed the Witch. He didn’t need to see his dick to feel each wave of pleasure that heralded a spurt of his nut into her, blasting her with even more heat. The Witch wrapped her legs around him, pushing him even deeper for his final burst of cum, splattering her completely full.  
  
His arms failed him then, tired from holding himself upright, and he fell bodily onto her, still buried in her slit. The Witch coughed as he lay against her chest, and he had the presence of mind to roll off of her so she could breathe. Her hair was tussled and her breaths heavy while her thighs and pelvis were red from his repeated thrusts against her. As he withdrew and lay on his side, facing her, he was pleased to see how little of his seed oozed out from her: he’d drilled it in deep. The Witch absentmindedly started to weave a spell in her hands, but he caught her by the wrist and stopped the channel. She quirked a tired eyebrow at him, but didn’t resist.  
  
“No magic. Not this time. Just me. Just us, together.” The Swordsman emphasized the final word by tracing his finger along her jawbone, pulling her in for another kiss. She melted into it, closing her eyes to be left with nothing more than the sound of their lips meeting.  
  
With a small gasp and a pop, she withdrew, a string of saliva connected their mouths for a moment before it snapped between them. “All right, Swordsman. We shall do it your way. This time.” She tapped her finger on the bridge of his nose in staccato rhythm, gazing off past him towards the room they had just stumbled out of. “But if this is going to become a regular occurrence, there are some _fascinating_ spells I would love to try with you.”  
  
“Is this going to become a regular thing, Witch? Are we just...going to forget about everything you have done?”  
  
“Well, you all have tried to kill me multiple times.”  
  
The Swordsman frowned. “That is hardly comparable. Some of what you have done…”  
  
She raised her hands in a placating gesture, which was wholly unnecessary given that they were both flopped out on the floor, utterly helpless. “Peace, Swordsman. Truth be told, I tire of this life in the Black Forest. Terrorizing peasants and isolated, narcissistic lords is not terribly entertaining or profitable. My actions have been reduced to pranks: where I once held kingdoms in my sway and could starve entire populations with a single spell to spoil the corn crop, I instead spook adolescents who are attempting to carve their names into my trees. I have not made a serious magical breakthrough in years. Junkenstein is useful and brilliant, but beyond his inventions I keep contact with him to an absolute minimum, due to his...instability. The Reaper despises me and I do not make use of him when alternatives are available. Attacking the castle is a harmless formality at this point. Besides, you clearly profit from its occurrence. What else would you do each October?”  
  
“So I am supposed to forgive your crimes?”  
  
“I do not deny them. You have had ample opportunity to punish them. Instead, you chose to fuck me. I am still curious as to why.”  
  
He knew now, but he didn’t like the answer. The Swordsman had, long ago, been quite the womanizer, but that wasn’t part of why he had come to the decision he had. That had been before he met his master. Before he and his brother had gone their separate paths, worse for the wear in different and unequal ways. He could not blame the Witch’s magicks for their intrigue. The reason he’d sought the Witch out and had sex with her had been a long, long time coming, the culmination of years of small changes and stagnations.  
  
“We are more similar than I originally believed. I too want something different. It has been...three years now that I have ventured here with my master, battling you at the same time every year. Even beyond that, the last three years have been the dullest of my life, though certainly the most peaceful.” The Swordsman raised himself up on his left elbow, supporting his head in his hand as he looked down at the Witch’s prone form. “Understand, I will not abandon my master. And there are other warriors out there who yet need my assistance. The Viking’s old warband seems to be coming back together, and I sense that I will play a part in their actions.”  
  
He reached his right hand across and locked his fingers into hers. “But as I regained control of faculties during our first dalliance, I realized that, more than anything, I want to find more people to share these responsibilities with. As the world changes, so must my company. And if I can solve two problems at once, then I see no reason why I should not attempt this.” The Swordsman leaned forward and kissed her, long and deep, feeling her breath through her nostrils on his as he knew she felt his on hers.  
  
Breaking away, he smiled down at her. “And I have reason to believe that you have changed. The repetitiveness of this place has softened you. The stories that were told about you are true, but they speak of a woman who has not existed for years. My master was right, in his own way. But I suspect I was not the catalyst for your development. Reduced opportunities ground away your sharp edges to make you the Witch you are today.”  
  
A smile spread across the Witch’s features. “Are you asking me to join you on your travels? I have roots here, of both the literal and figurative kind. I cannot abandon them. Nor will I pretend to have fully reformed the way you believe I have.” Her smile faded and her lips pursed. “But mayhaps you are right. Perhaps the change that I seek will be found by helping you find yours. I will travel with you and your master, and anyone else who joins us."  
  
His smile lit up. “I do not expect you to desert this place completely, even if you choose to journey with me. And next year, if you so decide, I can anticipate some...entertaining diversions when you inevitably attack Adlersbrunn.”  
  
“Do you now? I may have some fresh ideas as well to test you all.” The Swordsman wrinkled his nose in response and couldn’t suppress a quip.  
  
“...Perhaps someday you can be fully turned from the darkness…”  
  
“Not likely.”  
  
“...But I accept this for now. Though the others will take more time, and you should remain inconspicuous for a while until then.”  
  
The Witch let out a clear, genuine laugh and the sound rolled through the room like a chime: high, sweet, and ringing, breaking through the gloom of the night outside to bring hope and joy. She smiled, snorted, and tucked some mussed hair behind her ear. “Difficult, with a walking house. Perhaps I will need to rely on my old trick.”  
  
“A flying broomstick?”  
  
“No, a flying mortar bowl. Long story.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“...”  
  
“Is something the matter?”  
  
“Swordsman, you plowed me very thoroughly. I cannot feel my legs. The washroom is upstairs. Kindly transport the two of us there, and I may regain the use of my limbs.”  
  
Stifling a chuckle, the Swordsman allowed himself to grin. This promised to be the start of something beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed my work, you can find more of it at my tumblr (oh, wait, not anymore) or my Hentai Foundry page (lewdsmokesoldier). Drop me a line if there's anything you'd like me to work on!


	3. Mixed Messages Make Many Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Witch has, on the Swordsman's suggestion, elected to travel with him, but a rift appears to have grown between them. How might this be mended?  
> With sex, of course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me! I'm finally updating this story!
> 
> I've got three more chapters that I'll be posting over the course of this week, so look forward to them!

The night sky, black and moonless and dusted with stars, stretched over the woods, free of clouds and affording a clear view of the snow-capped mountains in the distance. The Swordsman was generally predisposed towards cynicism, but even he had to admit that such an uncorrupted sight was beautiful. Men had yet to find a way to exploit the heavens, and the pristine darkness seemed to extend a hand towards him, promising a life free of the troubles of the soil if he could only find a way to fly.

  
He shook these thoughts from his head. Such lofty dreams would do him little good now, waiting with his Master by the fire, watching the sparks crack and pop in the ring of stones they’d erected to contain the blaze. He was warm beneath his black-and-brown gi, but the fire was an added comfort. The trees were more sparsely spread around them, less thickly interwoven as in the Witch’s domain, and certainly less threatening. These did not harbor jagged edges that turned their shadows into monsters, threatening retribution at the slightest peel of bark.  
  
Still, the Swordsman had to stay alert. The danger of the forest was not constrained to the portions that the Witch called home. It would be a most ignominious end for him to have “bested” the feared Witch of the Wilds without slaying her, yet fall to a common bandit.  
  
“I sense your thoughts drifting elsewhere, my student.” His Master, the Monk, cut into their shared silence, the tentacles on his face motionless as he cracked open an eye at his student.  
  
“They are, my Master.”  
  
“Would it foster calm if you gave voice to them? I would not begrudge you to keep them to yourself, in any event.”  
  
“No, that will not be necessary.” The Swordsman paused, gazing into the fire, watching the logs blacken and peel beneath the heat, then fall and release clouds of sparks as the integrity of the balancing wood faltered and adjusted into its new position. “My mind...wanders.”  
  
“I sincerely hope that is not all you plan to divulge on the matter.” The Swordsman could hear his Master’s tone rise, teasing him. If the Monk could do so, he’d be smiling beneath his tentacles: as it was they merely twitched and pulsed with rings of green, the closest he would ever get to a broad, cheeky grin.  
  
“Master, that is unnecessary. I was pausing.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For...dramatic effect?”  
  
“I do not believe that for one second. No, I believe your mouth outsped your thoughts, and you began to speak without truly knowing what you wished to say.” A pause, for the Monk’s own dramatic effect. “I am correct, am I not?”  
  
“...Yes, My Master.”  
  
“Very good.” The Monk chuckled, moving a hand to run along the tip of one of his face-tentacles. “So, now that you have had some time to ponder, assuming my speaking has not distracted you, what specifically is causing you consternation?”  
  
The Swordsman opened his mouth to speak, and stopped himself. His Master’s verbosity _had_ distracted him, contrary to his assumption otherwise. So what _really_ was bothering the pupil? He was with his Master, which should have put his mind more at ease than nearly anything else. He had accomplished his goal of ensuring the Witch’s attacks on Adlersbrunn would never become a true threat. He’d even secured her agreement to travel alongside the two men, though she insisted on sleeping in her home rather than outside. The Swordsman enjoyed the creature comforts of a bed and a warm room and piped water, but many evenings he simply wished to enjoy the sounds of the night, with his clothing as a blanket and the grass as his bedding, or even drifting off among the treetops for additional support and security.  
  
Even so, he understood where the Witch was coming from. And given that she had a walking house, he could little blame her for taking advantage of it to avoid the negatives associated with resting outdoors.  
  
That line of thought led him back to what he was certain was causing him disquiet: the Witch. Her meeting with the Monk had gone well, but they’d kept her association with him from the other wanderers. Yes, she had agreed to travel with him for a time, and had proven since that had begun to be open, amicable and sincere in the proclamations she’d made the evening he’d snuck into her home and fucked her into the floor, preceding a night of creaking boards and gasped affirmations as he went ahead and laid into her all around her house, too.  
  
But since then, he sensed there was something...missing. She seemed distant, dispirited, confused and even irritable. The flashes of trust, the confidence and comfort had vanished, replaced with a harsher exterior that radiated frustration and, he was ashamed to admit, warded him away. More importantly, the Witch had not shared her bed with him since the inception of their covenant. Or her floor, or wall, or the grass, any other place the Swordsman could have plowed into her, really.  
  
Perhaps that was superficial of him, but he really _did_ miss that.  
  
“The Witch. She has been...apart, as of late.”  
  
“That is not surprising. While she has done so willingly, she has departed her sphere of greatest power. It will take time for her to acclimate.”  
  
“No, not that. When we were...together before, I saw hints, whispers, slivers of something greater. A smile, a laugh, a twinkle in her eye.” The Swordsman huffed and leaned closer to the fire. “Teasing they might have been, but they showed both a happiness in her heart _and_ a happiness around me that I do not see anymore. And I am frightened to approach her to discover what.”  
  
“Why? She certainly would not harm you.”  
  
“Master, you are not the one at risk of being transformed into a toad.”  
  
“You would make a _lovely_ amphibian, my student.”  
  
The Swordsman allowed himself to smile. “Ah, so we are being more general now? Perhaps my fears of being turned to a toad are unfounded: instead I am simply at risk of metamorphosing into a salamander on her order?”  
  
A chuckle from beneath the Monk’s tentacles. “And I assume that alleviating this fear through distance is superior to risking it through more immediate confrontation? Given how enraptured you are with her, I would have assumed that you would be driven by lust to take action some time ago. Perhaps I underestimated your self-control.”  
  
“Do you intend to needle me all evening, Master, or do you have some profound guidance that might be of assistance?” He sighed. “Yes, yes, I do miss our...passions, intrigues, whatever you will call them.”  
  
“I might call them ‘messy’, now that you ask…”  
  
The Swordsman rolled his eyes. “But that is not all of it. She is missing something else, something she had normally before and does not have access to, but is too anxious to ask for.”  
  
“Well, then. Does that not solve your conundrum?” The Monk hummed, rolling a meditation orb along his arm, letting it rest on his fingertips. “She is concerned about something, and it has driven her apart from you, emotionally and physically. The same is true of you. Would it not be more expedient to simply...seek her out and solve your mutual discomforts through conversation?”  
  
“I highly doubt it will be that simple.”  
  
“‘Build on a foundation, not on a convolution..’ _Talk_ to her, my student. Soothe the soreness that has wedged you two apart.”  
  
The Swordsman rubbed his maskless chin, contemplative. His Master had a point. Even taking the desire he had for her out of the picture, he was concerned about his relationship with the Witch. Helping her adjust had to take priority, and if such efforts also eased his own worries, it would be for the better.  
  
“Thank you, Master.” He stood and bowed, hands clasped. “I have made my decision. I will see how I can help her, and perhaps how she can help me.”  
  
“And, of course, should this be beneficent, you may yet enjoy more sexual escapades with that most lovely of sorceresses.” His Master couldn’t contain his amusement, giggling and chortling as his student walked away. “Good luck!”  
  
The warrior rolled his eyes. The Monk was kind and wise, but too sarcastic for his own good.

* * *

  
_Knock knock knock_  
  
“Come in!” Cried out the voice inside. She must have known who was there, even without her sentries and wards. Notwithstanding that she had granted him true sight to see through the glamour disguising her home, who else would knock on the door of what was obviously a Witch’s hut?  
  
He stepped in, the door creaking and brushing against the carpet, and immediately could tell where she was. One of the doors that he hadn’t gone through was open, shining green light into the hallway, while the rest were closed. He padded along there in short measure, taking pains to make as much noise as he could: he had no desire to startle her into a sudden spell usage.  
  
The nature of the room wasn’t a surprise, given that the Witch of the Wilds was, well, a Witch, but it still took the Swordsman a moment to take it all in.  
  
It was most definitely her private apothecarium, or brewing chamber, or whatever the term was for the location where she concocted charms with material results, as evidenced by the potions, bracelets and necklaces neatly ordered on the shelves lining the wall to his right. Though the Alchemist had decried the Witch as employing magic, not science, evidently a more complicated blend of the two was at play. Ingredients and notebooks were bottled and sorted alongside yet more shelves, with one wall dedicated to the components, another to the documents, and the third to the final products.  
  
Like her study, a desk and a padded chair rested near the far wall with enough room to walk around and consult the tomes that filled the space there. Most surprisingly, several books and bottles of ingredients were floating about the place, whirling in slow circles around a similarly floating, glowing cauldron, lit by a green ring of flame. The fire touched pages as they lazed about in the air, but they did not catch fire, and as he stepped towards it he did not feel himself grow warmer.  
  
The Witch was there, clad in the clothing he’d come to expect, seated before the desk, flipping through a book whose cover he couldn’t quite understand. He thought one of the words was _Basileus_ , and the one after it _Drakon_ , but he had no idea what they meant together.  
  
Turning back to look at him, the Witch snapped whatever she was reading shut, clenching her fists and gritting her teeth. He had half a mind to step back and start to run.  
  
“I _despise_ this. Not having any inkling where to look was its own problem, but even once I discerned something to follow, what did I encounter? Absolutely _nothing_ specifically on you!”  
  
“Me?!” The idea of fleeing was looking more and more attractive.  
  
“Yes, you! Or, rather, your command over your dragon spirits, or spirit, singular, I am not certain. The Summoner’s powers and altered appearance are bequeathed from the serpent she serves, but yours is entirely different. There were whispers of witches in your homeland who channel snakes, which would have been close to what I was looking for, but these are dwarfed by the records on those who make use of foxes. _Argh_!”  
  
She paused, breathing heavily, rubbing her eyes with her gloved hands. The Swordsman elected to hazard her wrath and interject.  
  
“Why is this important to you?”  
  
“I may have spoken before regarding how I enjoy studying magic and phenomena and the like, though not _just_ in the interest of satisfying my curiosity. The potential to use it myself can often be a side-benefit. Well, to be candid, this is the most befuddled that I have ever found myself. There simply is not any information about your power, or that of...well, you understand.” The Witch grimaced sheepishly, as if she’d let slip something she knew she shouldn’t have, but he was already well aware his brother still lived.  
  
“I know you speak of my sibling, of the Archer. I presume he is even less likely to be of help to your inquiry.” He spoke dryly, taking more than a little joy in how the Witch flushed even further at his affirmation. The topic of reunion with his brother was for another time, but it still hung over the Swordsman, reminding him that he could not yet relax until he had laid that old wound to rest. “But what exactly _about_ me, about my dragon spirits, intrigues you so?”  
  
“Are you quite serious?” Rather than accusatory, her tone resembled more that of an excited friend eager to share some new information and leaping on the first chance to do so. “Is there anything that is _not_ intriguing about it? Is it the use of a dragon familiar, a ghost or spirit bound to you and your family? A manifestation of something deeper within yourselves, such as anger or protectiveness? Is it tied to your weapons? There’s so much I do not know, and I _yearn_ to uncover it!”  
  
Seeing her now, eyes alight with wonder and anticipation as she rattled off theories and predictions, the Swordsman was astonished at the change that had overcome her. The moody, sulking, retreating woman he’d been dodging since their departure had turned into someone utterly enraptured with the possibility of learning some new information, even if she could not make use of it. Her lack of progress with studying _him_ had occupied her and driven her to the state she’d been in, a mess of distraction and futility. Had this been who she was in the wood, when she was not attacking Adlersbrunn? A reflection of who she had been before she became the Witch, a relic of a bygone time?  
  
He was not sure, but the Swordsman was certain that seeing the Witch excited so was one of the most heartwarming things he’d ever borne witness to. How could he _not_ rush back to her, to comfort and lend her aid when she expressed such pristine, genuine wonder at the simple and fundamental act of education? How could he maintain his distance and justify it with fear? He had no answer.  
  
At least, not to those questions. He had plenty for those that the Witch had just thrown out at him, and he saw no reason to not address some now.  
  
“Well, I do know that it is bound to my bloodline. My mother had it, my father had it, and his mother and uncle before him, and his mother before that, and so on. I do not know if such magic has a classification…”  
  
“Ancestral magic! Certainly, it does!”  
  
“...But I hope that it may be of assistance.” The Swordsman smiled, watching the Witch beam and perk up, so different from the sullen and frustrated scholar she’d been before.  
  
“This will be very useful! Many thanks.” She snatched his hat off of his head and ran her fingers through his hair, plucking a hair or five from the mane atop his scalp.  
  
“ _Owch!”_  
  
“Oh, stop that. It did not hurt _that_ much.” She rolled her eyes, not turning back towards him until the strands were stored in a jar, a label writing itself along the strip of parchment glued to the front until it read “Swordsman’s Hair”. Only then did The Witch realize that, yes, perhaps ripping some hair out did sting quite a bit. She shuffled back to rub her hands through it again, the sensation more comforting this time than invasive. “You do not protest my acquisition of more tissue samples from you, I hope? It would be...of great help in my research.”  
  
The Swordsman shook his head, both in assent and to wipe the needling pain from his scalp. It still stung, and he couldn’t resist ribbing the Witch.  
  
“No, but given that the power is explicitly tied to my bloodline, I would venture to assume that my seed would be a far more meaningful contribution to your investigations and experiments.”  
  
The Swordsman didn’t realize the gravity of what he’d said until he noticed that the materials floating about the room had stopped moving. With a light _thud_ , everything fell to the ground, the glass remaining intact and the cauldron flame continuing to burn, even as it failed to ignite the carpeted floor. He gulped and turned to look at the Witch. Had he gone too far?  
  
Her expression was shifting between shock at his audacity, amusement at that same boldness, frustration at herself for not thinking of it sooner, and the gleeful shine he knew so very well. The anticipatory smile widened, replacing the other emotions vying for control of her face until her voice left little doubt as to what, exactly, she thought of his idea.  
  
“Oh.” The Witch spoke only a single word, but imbued it with all the headiness she could muster. Her tongue flicked out, dragging along her lower lip, then her upper, leaving her lips shining and so very kissable.  
  
“ _Oh_.” She repeated, punctuating the end of the syllable with a bite, nipping the empty air towards the Swordsman, flashing her brilliant white smile. He felt his cheeks warm, and knew it wasn’t from the magical flames heating her cauldron.  
  
“I see.” She purred, rolling and extending the “e” as she stepped towards him, grasping the bottom of the mask covering his chin and tossing it aside so she could cup his cheeks. Her breath was so hot on his mouth and so, so sweet, her lips so very close…  
  
“Why didn’t _I_ think of that?” The Witch didn’t wait for his response, tilting her head to lock her lips around his, soft and pliable and sinking against him, hands holding his head close so she could deepen the kiss. Unable to speak, the Swordsman was quite happy to return her touch, pressing his mouth against her softly, allowing his hands to quest away from his sides and along her waist. When he slipped one beneath the cloth hanging from her back, gliding his fingers along her exposed thighs, he felt her shudder against his face, and when he took a firm, decisive hold of her left buttock, he heard her hum into their locked lips. His right hand ventured upward, cupping a breast, kneading and rolling the covered nipple beneath his fingers.  
  
He closed his eyes, kissing and squeezing and groping, happy to feel and hear and smell and taste the Witch, and for her to do the same to him, her right hand sliding down from his cheek to rub his covered, tenting groin, her delicate fingers perfectly outlining the stiffening curve of his cock.  
  
They pulled apart, and he spoke first.  
  
“Yes, why didn’t you?” The Swordsman smiled and gripped her ass and flicked her tit just a little harder, marveling at how soft and sensual she felt, covered as she was in all her half-naked glory.  
  
“Well, now that _we’ve_ thought of it, perhaps I should...collect a sample. Would you be so kind as to volunteer one, Swordsman?” The Witch dragged her tongue along his cheek, pressing it against the scars crisscrossing his face, her cheeks red and her rubbing of his clothed dick speeding up. There really was only one right answer.  
  
“You can have as many as you like, Witch. I shall be more than happy to provide.” He was telling the truth. The Witch’s magic hadn’t had any permanent effects on him yet, but he could _feel_ how eager to unload his nuts were. It would definitely take more than one spurt to empty him out, even without her sexual sorcery.  
  
That was exactly what the Witch wanted to hear. Trailing kisses along his cheek, down towards his jaw and shoulder, the Witch slipped his belt loose, letting it fall to the ground, dragging her finger to loosen his pants and underclothes until they, too, lay in a heap around his ankles. All that was left was for her to unfold his gi, and…  
  
Then he was bare, and for the first time in what felt like far too long she got a proper good look at him. The Swordsman was lithe, chiseled and muscular, body speckled with scars and tension that wove her a story of a life of danger and injury. She would have to ask him about that later.   
  
For now, she was entirely interested in his hefty, thick cock standing at full mast in front of her, his balls eager to see their product unloaded wherever it could go. Thankfully, they’d have many opportunities with her.  
  
She slipped her gloves off, peeling them slowly and letting his gaze linger on the point where her skin was exposed and the leather came away. Better to have him experience this with her bare fingers, especially since this would be the first of many time she’d get that impressive shaft to cum from her ministrations. Reaching down, the Witch enclosed the Swordsman’s cock in her grip, standing and leaning against him, letting him keep his left hand on her covered ass, kneading and groping and squeezing as she pumped away at his length with her right hand.  
  
He was already breathing heavily, but his body was relaxed against hers. She’d not get him off _that_ easily. She suspected she could keep jacking him off, jerking his thick length until he eventually came, but the Witch wanted to make this _fun_.  
  
So she did what had worked so well last time. She talked dirty.  
  
“Is this what you wanted, Swordsman, when you called me away from my wood?” She licked and pecked at his cheek, jaw and neck, hissing at his ear. “Did you envision us here, you standing while I grabbed your cock and jerked you off? Yours is a _fantastic_ cock, Swordsman. I have had it in every one of my holes before, and it was a snug fit, to say the least.”  
  
Another kiss, this one deeper, longer, on the lips, feeling them breathe into each other’s faces, his hand insistently gripping her ass, struggling to enclose the prodigiousness of her butt cheek in his fingers. He couldn’t, but she admired the attempt, and rewarded him with another flurry of fast, hard strokes, reveling in how his neck started to strain from his attempts to hold onto the sensation and not cum, not yet.  
  
“Are you looking forward to more? You shall get more, do not concern yourself. All the orgasms you could dream of, with me, in pursuit of magical research. The more experiments I conduct, the more cum I shall need. And where do you suppose I shall acquire it?” The Witch went on, jerking harder now, precum flying off of his dick and scattering into the air, his shaft still wonderfully thick beneath her hand, her thumb bumping against the top of his shaft each time she stroked up, the Swordsman’s balls tensing just a little more each time as the prospect of blasting her hand full of cum became closer and closer to being a reality.  
  
“From _you_ , _my_ Swordsman. When I need more of your delicious, thick, hot, _amazing_ cum, I shall do whatever is needed to get it out of you, and rejuvenate you if you have exceeded your means. Would you enjoy that? Me, emptying your balls whenever it is beneficial for us, granting as a secondary boon a better understanding your glorious power?”  
  
The Swordsman’s breath hitched, and his grip on the Witch’s butt got white-knuckle tight. She chuckled, her hand flying up and down on his dick, his shaft hot and thick and so, so ready to blow. “Ah, I believe you are close. Now, when you cum, be sure to fill my hand with as much as you can. It shall make it easier to collect, but if need be, I can lick it off of your cock if it is necessary.”  
  
That sealed it. With a sound between a yowl and a roar, the Swordsman let loose, cumming into the Witch’s grip, load splattering and bubbling in her fingers as she slowed and held her hand around the top of his cockhead, feeling the warm, thick fluid splash and stick against her skin. Shuddering, the Swordsman’s dick fired off again, the cum too much for her cupped palm now, dripping between her fingers towards the floor. She caught it in her other hand, letting the cum hang down until it pooled, her fingers positively coated in his seed. She resisted the urge to lick it up, to drink down his load and partake of something so pure and virile: it would do her little good to waste this sample.  
  
She clicked her tongue, and a bottle uncorked itself and drifted over to her. Tipping one hand, and then the other, she let as much fluid as she could slide from her palm into the flask, which sealed itself up on its own and flitted back to its spot on the shelf. The Witch’s hands were still covered in the sheen of the Swordsman’s handjob-induced climax, the liquid that hadn’t been distinct enough to separate from her hand easily forming little air bubbles between her fingers.  
  
She might get the chance to have a little taste, after all. She dipped her head forward and gave her palm a long, slow lick from wrist to fingertip, drawing in as much of the thin coating she could.  
  
Just like the first time, when she’d sucked him to completion against a tree. Thick, salty, hot, and oh-so delicious. It was a pity she’d have to limit herself to just the dregs of his cum, rather than the full bounty of it. But such was the price of magical experimentation. For now, the Witch would be quite satisfied with this, and she made a show of pressing her lips and tongue to her hand and sucking, licking and licking the drying fluid off of her hand, swallowing it down with an exaggerated gulp.  
  
The Swordsman gaped and blinked down at her, and warmth welled up in her chest. Her devotion and skillful hand had left a positive impression on him, even more than what already existed. He really _was_ enchanted with her and what she could do, and she with him. She wasn’t sure what to call this sensation, this comfort she knew next to him, but she looked forward to more. If it came with sex, all the better.  
  
Popping her fingers into her mouth and sucking his cum off the tips, the Witch cleaned the last of his cum off of her hands, smiling as she stood to meet his eyes. “Most impressive, Swordsman. I do very much hope that that is not all the seed you have for me now, even without the assistance of my...carnal magics?”  
  
The Swordsman returned her grin with one of his own, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her forward, pressing her body against his, the contrasts of their forms highlighted. Where she was voluptuous and delicate, built of soft curves and svelte limbs, he was hard-formed and strong, unyielding and scarred. And, true to her prediction, he was still erect and raring to go. “You have _no idea_ , my Witch. I certainly will not be satisfied with providing you with merely a single sample. The only question left…” He trailed off , lips hovering a hair away from hers, brazenly licking his lips.  
  
“...Is how exactly you want to collect my next gift of seed. I warn you, it is remarkably difficult for me to restraint myself from pulling off your underclothes and slipping inside you right here and now, but I  am only stopping myself for fear that I would not be able to hold back, and would fill you with the cum you seek.” The Swordsman chuckled, moving a hand to rub his index finger along her covered slit, pressing against the fabric, feeling her moisten in anticipation through the material. “I would enjoy that immeasurably, but I suspect that would taint the material you’re looking for.”  
  
Flushing under his touch, the Witch allowed the fantasy to permeate her thoughts. Of him tearing down her undergarments, spreading herself supine on the ground, and being thoroughly wrapped around the Swordsman’s remarkable cock…It was an enticing daydream, but her pragmatic mind won out. Still, perhaps they could approximate such a sensation…  
  
“Indeed it would, my Swordsman. But I have an even better idea.” Pressing her hand to his chest, she pushed him away long enough to slip down her undergarments, pulling down the top of her corset to expose her breasts, nipples already stiff and aroused from his earlier ministrations, her slit gleaming and eager. Stepping back towards him, she leaned forward, wrapping a hand around the back of his head and pulling him into a kiss, letting him taste his own load on her lips. Mere vestiges of the prodigious climax she’d jerked out of him, but a sincere enough reflection of what they had brought about together.  
  
Distracted as he was by the kiss, the Witch was certain he would not notice her using her other hand to guide his length, still hard and gleaming with the coating of his last orgasm, towards her slit, brushing it past the cloth hanging down from her front. But its destination was not her cunt itself, warm and inviting as it may have been, crowned by a thin patch of hair as golden as the locks on her head. No, her guidance of the crown of the Swordsman’s dick had another goal in mind. His lips wavered against her own and his eyes widened as he felt the top of his length slide against her glistening pussy lips...and keep going, moving past, dragging against her opening until his cock lay trapped between her legs, rubbing against the underside of her rear, balls resting against the top of her thighs. Breaking the kiss, the Witch leaned forward even more, resting her chin on the top of his shoulder, moving her hands from the back of his head and his length to his wrists, guiding him until her was gripping her full, pale ass from the front.  
  
Comprehension dawned on the Swordsman and he slowly shifted his hips back, gritting his teeth as his cock slid backwards, wrapped around on all sides by the Witch’s thighs, the top rubbing against her nethers. It would be so, so easy to withdraw fully, angle his dick upwards, and plunge into her...but that wasn’t what they were here for. And she had been correct. This was a _phenomenal_ idea. She’d formed her thighs into an excellent facsimile of how it’d feel for him to be fully inside her. Less wet and warm, certainly, but her powerful thighs were more than capable of pillowing his cock happily between them, and most definitely tight enough to fuck to completion.  
  
Innovative _and_ capable of using her ingenuity in service of more exciting sexual intrigues. He was starting to love this woman.  
  
Grasping her ass, the Swordsman sawed his cock back and forth between the Witch’s thighs, feeling her clench and tense all around him as he dragged along her lower lips, the head of his cock prodding that sensitive, all-important bud every time it slid past. Her hands were wrapped around his shoulders now, holding him close, her breasts pressing so tightly against his chest that he swore he could feel her heartbeat through them the same way he sensed it through the pressure of her neck against his own. Impossible, he knew, given how large her tits were, but he didn’t let the image slip from his thoughts.  
  
Back and forth, in and out, forward and away, every thrust and retreat of his dick between her thighs was a joy he had no idea he’d gone this long without enjoying. The tightness of thighfucking the Witch was different, to say the least. Almost more intense than the grip of her cunt on his cock, the sweat-slick skin giving him the perfect balance between friction and smooth gliding. Nearly as engaging was the feeling of the soft skin of her butt beneath his hands, which stirred in him memories of the last time he’d bent the Witch over and grabbed them to his heart’s desire, and of the possibility of what he might do with them in the future.  
  
She was giving him so many excellent ideas.  
  
He could’ve made love to her legs for hours and it certainly felt like he had, but the grip on his length was almost _too_ tight, the soft skin of her ass almost _too_ delectably grabbable to stave off the second eruption he knew to be imminent. By how he’d dragged and pressed his jabbing shaft against the Witch’s clit and cunt, he had to hope her end was close, too. He feared that if it wasn’t, he’d be unable to hold off until it was.  
  
Fortunately for him, just when he thought the trigger was set and the rush of cum from his balls to his cockhead was about to begin, he noticed the signs of the Witch’s pleasure. The way her nails started to dig into his shoulders, the uneven catching of her breath, the ever-accelerating pump of blood he could feel through her neck against his. When the threshold was crossed, the panting turned to a whine, then a wail, the note holding higher and louder, and the digging in his shoulders became scratching and clawing, the grip of her thighs around his cock tightening even more as her thighs quivered and she struggled to stay upright. The fluid he felt gushing from her slit, warm and welcoming, expedited his own ceaseless fucking of her thighs and sent him past the point of no return.  
  
The Swordsman came powerfully, jabbing his length as deep as it could go between her thighs, feeling his load coat her legs and the underside of her rear, some even jetting through onto the floor behind her, the rest dripping down his cock to the floor between her legs. When he thought he’d cummed himself dry at last, a final spurt surprised him, oozing down onto the tops of her boots, leaving a messy trail of off-white fluid running from where their bodies met to the toe of her shoes.  
  
They held each other close, coming down off of their highs and the intensity of their outercourse. Their bodies rubbed and glided against each other, their hair ruffled from exertion and sweat. The spots where the Witch had dragged her nails across his shoulders started to ache, as did his hands from digging his fingers into the magnificent rear that had enthralled him, even if he couldn’t see it during the act. Her butt would certainly be the worse off for it, marked red with the imprints of his hands, though perhaps less sore than when he’d fucked her in the ass...The thought was nearly enough to entice him to go again, but he knew he had to show some self-control. That, and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to resist entering her if he went again.  
  
“Well…” He started, and waited for the Witch to offer an end to the sentence. She said nothing, merely leaning back so she could look at him with a bemused expression on her face.  
  
“I suppose we should…” She stopped him with a kiss. A small one, more of a peck on his lips than anything, but the simple, affectionate gesture threw him off. It would have seemed chaste if not for the fact that her legs and the bottom of her ass were covered in his cum, and if his length wasn’t still comfortably enfolded by her thighs. But he appreciated the simple, pure offering, and returned it in kind with a brush of his mouth against hers.  
  
The warmth in his chest grew, and the Swordsman tried not to sigh in contentment. Even discounting what they’d just done, there was little more he could think of that was more comforting than being near the Witch. And he was getting more and more certain that she shared this opinion. As to whether or not they would act on it more...well, that could come later.  
  
And after she’d gotten the cum off of her legs to collect her second sample.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hrm, now what could possibly be next for these two? Besides more sex, of course.
> 
> If you enjoyed reading this, be sure to check out the other chapters to come and my other stories! I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lewdsmoke) and [ Hentai Foundry](http://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/Lewdsmokesoldier/profile).


	4. Power Perversion Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Witch has dedicated herself fully to discovering the secret of the Swordsman's dragon spirit, certain that the answer must lie in his seed. Now all that's left is to submit herself to the cock and balls that make it. All the better to get lots of samples, of course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another update for Sword and Sorcery. Let's get to it!

The Swordsman plopped down onto his back next to the now-dying fire, eyes red and weary, and immediately shut them. His Master looked on, arms folded. If he could quirk an eyebrow, he would, but he had to content himself with speaking.  
  
“My student, you have returned. Were you able to resolve the discord between you and the Witch?”  
  
No response. The Swordsman was breathing too sharply to be asleep.  
  
“Do not pretend to have drifted off into dreams already. Why do you avoid discussion?”  
  
His pupil sighed and snatched up his hat from the ground next to him, placing it over his brow and so blocking out light and distractions. The Monk shrugged, believing that if his student did not wish to speak, he would not force the issue. But when he returned his attention to the fire, he was surprised to hear the warrior interject.  
  
“We were. We have reached a new arrangement.”  
  
“Ah.” The Monk steepled his fingers and nodded. “And I suppose this arrangement involves some new sexual experiences for the both of you?”  
  
“I...:” The wanderer started, then stopped himself. He had no reason to lie, despite his exhaustion. “How did you know?”  
  
“My student, you were gone for quite some time. And given that you are freshly washed, I had reason to suspect something occurred that required some cleansing. And given what happened the last two time you were in close physical proximity with her…”  
  
“All right, all right. Yes, we...we did, but not exactly.”  
  
“Could I entice you to clarify? Ambiguity breeds confusion, and confusion results in miscommunication, and miscommunication leads to—” The Monk began listing steps on his fingers, and the Swordsman knew that once the Monk got started, he’d never stop.  
  
“Well! Um, she is attempting to elucidate the nature of my mastery over the dragon spirit.” He began meekly, dreading the follow-up question.  
  
His master appeared more intrigued than amused. “And how does that necessitate activities of a more carnal nature?”  
  
“If you would let me _finish_ ,” the Swordsman began, voice tinged with annoyance for the first time he could recall in the presence of his master. “She has exhausted many options in her search, and strove to take a sample of myself for experimentation. First she started with hair, but after I mentioned that the magic is ancestral, well, I...jokingly suggested that my, um, seed would perhaps be a better option as opposed to hair.” Out loud, that sounded...quite silly. Sillier than it remembered, certainly.  
  
“I see.” The Monk’s deadpan delivery did little to soothe the awkward the Swordsman felt throughout his body. He’d have been perfectly happy if a stray ember began a forest fire, if he could only avoid this conversation. “And I assume she agreed.”  
  
“Very much so.”  
  
“And do you truly believe this, or is this an elaborate ruse you have established for the purpose of, shall we say, resuming your intrigue with the Witch?”  
  
“ _What_ ?! No, absolutely not!” The Swordsman sputtered, tossing his hat aside and sitting up, alert and awake and desperate to address the misunderstanding. “I have no idea if it will work, and my suggestion was entirely facetious, but it may be of some use so I will not write it off, and...it sounds like I am attempting to convince myself, does it not?”  
  
“Yes.” The Monk nodded sagely. “But worry not, this is not deceptive on your part. And if she enjoys it, I see little harm in continuing this.”  
  
“I...thank you, Master.”  
  
“By what means are you providing her seed? Are you engaging in coitus and then separating at the final moment, or…?”  
  
“Go to sleep, Master.”  
  
“I do not sleep.”  
  
The Swordsman lay back down and turned away, huffing in the closest equivalent of a sulk he could muster. “Then allow me to.”  
  
“I see.” The Monk chuckled. “Very well. Rest, my pupil. You will need all your energy for tomorrow’s activities. Including, of course, what the Witch requests.”  
  
“Master!”

 

* * *

"Tell me again. What do you want, more than anything else? Beg for it.”

The Witch was kneeling before the Swordsman, watching him stand above her, towering and fierce and wholly focused on her. She was clothed in her boots, gloves and, of course, her hat, but her chest and crotch were wholly exposed for him to gaze upon to his heart's content.

They were trying something new. Even when he had been more in control before, it had never been to this extent, with her utterly supplicating herself for him, incapable of shrinking away or hiding. True, all it involved right now was being _physically_ lower than him and returning his words with her own, but the simplicity made it all the better. _He_ was the one in control.

“ _Please_. I want your cock. Atop me, in me, however you desire."

She pouted her lip and whined, pleading with her brilliant blue eyes, hungry and wanting. The game required little in the way of movement, besides the Swordsman’s hand on his cock, jerking and stroking it close to her face while they tawdrily exchanged lewd utterances. But she _adored_ it, adored the control he both held over her physically and emotionally, and the knowledge that they could just as easily be on the opposite ends of the scale. She had plans to redress him when next they tried an uneven balance of power.  
  
When he’d first suggested this mere moments ago for their second round of “Collect the Swordsman’s cum”, she’d been intrigued and excited, and her willingness to leap into it had been rewarded. Above her, he smiled, the scars on his face stretching and creasing with the movement of his lips. She would have to ask him about those in the future, but for now, they lent him an air of danger that played even further into the domination he was embodying.  
  
“That is correct. Beg for it.” He began, slapping his cock towards her, draping it across her face and letting his ballsack hang right on her lips. “You _need_ this. But what do you really yearn for, even more than my magnificent cock, the cock that brought such pleasure to even the most insatiable Witch?”  
  
It was clear what he was talking about, what he was commanding her to do. But the Witch had an idea, a way to convey her understanding with something even greater than words. He wanted her to beg, but with something other than her voice. Instead of speaking, she opened her mouth and suckled on one glorious testicle, taking in the salt and sweat of his scrotum and drinking deeply of all the magnificent cum it and its partner promised. The Swordsman nodded, impressed.  
  
“Very good.” He hefted the base of his cock in his right hand and smacked the head of it on her forehead, leaving the ball she was sucking securely in her lips, letting her draw more of it in until her teeth were gently enclosed around the entirety of the orb. Her eyes were watering, but she didn’t care. She’d never dare move. This was the first time the Witch had done this, and she couldn’t wait for the chance to do it again, even if she was looking forward even more to returning the favor.  
  
“Now, I wonder, would it be better to let you suck this as I rub all on you until I spill all over your face,” the Swordsman began, scratching his chin with his left hand contemplatively. “Or should I allow you to be separated from it for a few precious moments so that I may bear my full strength onto my cock, stroking myself until I can take no more? Either way, your lovely features are going to be covered in my cum, dear Witch.”  
  
A flash of smugness in his eyes left her shuddering at his confidence. He was so bold, so strong, so prepared.  
  
She couldn’t have chosen a better man to travel with.  
  
“Choose wisely. And no, taking me down your mouth is not an option. As lovely as it would be to see your lips close around my girth, to feel you gag on me, I intend to do things _my_ way. Fucking your face can come another time, when we can risk the possibility of me flooding your mouth, throat and stomach with my seed.”  
  
Oh, that _wicked_ man. Now she was getting excited at that very possibility. But she had to make her decision, and soon, or he would make it for her. What did she want more? To mouth his nuts while his weighty shaft rested on her face, gliding across her skin until he came all over her? Or would she rather bear witness to how fast and hard he could beat his dick, staring down the formidable cockhead until he grunted and blasted her face white? When she put it like _that_ , it was a truly difficult choice. But she couldn’t bear to be apart from him, from the august and majesty of his balls, and so she gave her answer with a muffled whimper around his testicle, gently suckling to indicate her assent.  
  
The widening of his grin was all she needed to let her know she had made the right choice.  
  
The Swordsman did not speak, merely adjusting his posture to allow her better access to his ballsack, right hand guiding his member as it slid back and forth across her face. The head of his cock brushed over her eyes, oozing precum onto her lashes, but she did not falter, maintaining her suction on his scrotum, tongue snaking out from between her teeth and bottom lip to run along the folds of skin as she switched from one testicle to the other and back again. His length continued its journey across her face, gliding across the bridge of her nose and leaving a trail of fluid along her forehead, then circling back to trace its path on her features. The Witch had little idea how this could give the Swordsman enough stimulation to cum, but perhaps the diligence with which she attended to his testicles would be enough. He was yet to give any indication that she was pushing him past the threshold of his endurance, still bearing that confident smirk.  
  
She allowed her left hand to slither down between her legs, rubbing in a small circle around her clit, teasing the opening without actually inserting her fingers inside, straddling the line between edging and full masturbation. When she sensed his impending boon of cum, she would go all out, sinking her fingers into her slit and rubbing raw until she came with him. But until then, while he contented himself with leisurely draping his cock across her face and watching her go cross-eyed staring at it, swallowing his nuts all the while, she would hold herself back.  
  
Fortunately, she would not have long to wait. Discipline lent the Swordsman the appearance of endurance, when in actuality her ministrations of his balls and the sight of her glorifying the mere presence of his cock atop her face was setting him off faster than he had expected. Where physical pleasure was subdued, the sheer knowledge that he was reducing the mighty and proud Witch to his personal cock-worshipper, her mind filled with little more than what would sate the hunger she had for his cum, was enough to get him off. The power was intoxicating, and he could, for the first time since he’d turned the tables on her on their first fuck, understand how exactly she felt in command of such means. Still, he was steady, shifting his hips to add _oomph_ to the rocking motion of his dick along her face, his cockhead leaking more steadily onto her eyebrow and the bridge of her nose. The pressure from her skin on his length and her lips on his scrotum was building, and he saw little reason to hold back. The Witch could always rejuvenate his energy if this load took more out of him than he had anticipated.  
  
“You have done well. Or, rather are doing well, and will be given plenty of opportunities to do so again in the future. I bestow this prize upon you, that you may revel in it and make use of it.” He bit his lip and breathed heavily through his nose, only speaking when he knew for certain that he was about to erupt. “In simpler terms, here is the cum you begged and supplicated yourself for, Witch. It is the least you have earned, worshipping my cock so reverently.”  
  
Those were the words that signalled the break in his focus, in the tenseness holding him back from cumming, and were all the sign she needed to forgo teasing and plunge her fingers into her cunt, rubbing and rolling her digits in desperate desire to get off. The Swordsman’s dick shuddered above her, his balls tensed in her mouth, and then he was cumming, jets and waves of sticky white reward coating her forehead, dripping down onto her eyelids, pooling onto her cheeks and glazing the bridge of her nose. Some scattered into her hair, lost in the tangles of her golden locks, unusable for her final goal, but she didn’t care by that point. All the Witch could think of was the warmth of his seed and the pumping motion she was subjecting herself to, even as the heat in her core burned past the point of no return and heralded a messy, leg-quivering and breath-stealing orgasm. She gushed around her fingers, pussy drenched and sore from the depth with which her digits had reached, and at last broke off her mouth from the Swordsman’s ballsack.  
  
She was completely taken by the heady scent and sensation of his cum, an impromptu makeup coating her features, and meekly accepted his hand pulling her towards the desk chair near them. Through a film of white, the Witch smiled and beamed up at the man she had been so overjoyed to submit herself to, at least for now. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or an illusion cast by the seed obstructing her vision, or her own orgasm-addled mind, but she could swear she saw the same in his eyes as well.  
  
The Swordsman sat, legs spread wide, allowing the Witch to clean herself and collect the material she needed. As much as he desired to do what he had planned next while she was still masked with the evidence of his climax, they had no desire to waste any potentially usable resources. The downtime allowed him to marvel at the diligence with which she scraped off cum with her fingers, transferring it from her hands to flasks and bottles for later experimentation and study. The sight of her swaying, soft, sweaty tits and the inviting overlap between them also solidified his confidence in what he wished to do next.  
  
Staying seated, he shoved his cock towards the Witch, looking down at her expectantly when she met his gaze with her brilliant azure eyes, obfuscating bafflement at what he could possible want her to do. When he quirked an eyebrow incredulously, she sighed and acquiesced, leaning forward to wrap her lips around the sensitive cockhead and drag them down, slurping and swallowing all the seed she could catch, holding it fully in her mouth for as long as she could. She pulled off with a pop just in time for him to understand that, yes, he would need a little boost from her to get going for the next round.  
  
When she separated her mouth from his dick and found it still only half-erect, even after her abbreviated blowjob, she understood what the Swordsman needed. A snap of her fingers and a spark of golden glow, and yellow lines spiraled around his cockhead, moving down to his balls and back again, leaving him hard and ready, as if he hadn’t just flooded her face with cum.  
  
What would he demand next, she wondered? Would he run his cock through her hair, using the strands to get him off? Would he demand that she take her hand to him again, or something else they had already done? She could barely take the suspense.  
  
“Stand up fully, Witch. Press your tits together.” The Swordsman was not too chivalrous to admit that, as soon as he began to look upon the Witch with a lustful eye, he had wondered at just what her breasts might feel like pillowed around his cock. And even though the dip of her cleavage in her corset, emphasized by her barely-restrained bust, was no longer applicable thanks to her nudity, her chest looked no less inviting for her nakedness.  
  
“Ah, so you intend to fuck my tits, do you? Inventive. I cannot say that this has ever occurred to me before.” The Witch wasn’t being entirely truthful, of course: with breasts as fantastically sizeable and well-formed as her own, and a top as constraining as the one she wore most often, the pressure had occasionally led her to wonder at what something hard between them might feel like. Ordinarily, this would have been her broom, but she had never gotten around to shoving a large piece of wood between her tits. Probably for the better. “If nothing else, you are certainly thorough, my Swordsman. Is there no part of my body that shall remain unravished by the time I have found what I am looking for, the secret to your dragon spirit?.”  
  
“No, I suspect there will not. And intend to be as rigorous as possible in how I fuck you.” He extended his hands to rest on her shoulders as she straightened herself, rising until her breasts were at the same height as his proudly erect length. “Now, need I remind you? Press your tits together and wrap them around my cock, Witch.” He drummed his fingers on her shoulders meaningfully, waiting, and she chuckled.  
  
“Impatient, are we?” Still, she complied. Positioning her breasts on either side of his cock, her fingers dug gently into their sides, the space between as inviting as her thighs had been. And yet, the growing pressure around his dick was remarkable for how _different_ it was from both her thighs and her cunt. Where the latter was gripping and tight and wet and warm, and the former was tense and taut and muscular, the pressure of her breasts was of complete and total softness, even deeper and more relaxing than the smoothest, most welcoming cunt.

The Witch’s pussy was soft, but the pliable, supple sensation of her breasts pillowing his dick was something entirely different. The Swordsman had been intending to roughly fuck her tits until he spilled himself between them, up onto her chin and shoulders. But now he was certain that they both would prefer a gentler, slower dance, a rolling motion of her breasts around and against his dick, accommodating and almost soporific in their comfort. If she sensed his shift in intent, she did not show it, instead merely securing the grip her fingers had around her breasts and dragging them slowly up his cock, leaving him gasping and biting his lip at the pressing force enveloping his shaft. Her gaze remained locked on his, and he found his focus shifting between the affectionate warmth in her eyes and the pliable, milky-white tits wrapping around his cock.  
  
An understanding passed between them, a flash of...something, but he was not certain what. Was it the underpinning of a deeper affection, the unspoken rapport they had established after they’d lain with each other in her hut on their second meeting? Whatever it was, something the Swordsman _was_ sure of was that the Witch had reached the apex of her motion. Only his cockhead remained warmly enclosed between her breasts, until she moved down, dragging down until the cockhead that had been buried in her chest now poked out from the space between it, dribbling precum onto her pale bosoms.  
  
Where he had anticipated a rapid, rigorous titfucking, now he was enjoying something he could only truly call “making love to the Witch’s breasts”. Perhaps not truly fitting, given that the Witch was directing the motions rather than him, but the principle still stood. All the while, she kept looking at him, her movement gentle enough to enable such consistent, unbroken eye contact, a wordless exchange that left them both more confused than confident, anxious to unpack what the other’s eyes were saying. In any event, the Witch’s gliding of her breasts around the Swordsman’s length was working wonders, bringing to bear a soft, supple, comforting pressure.  
  
The motion became automatic, her thoughts elsewhere as she allowed her her fingers to relax, easing up the ache on her skin, still gazing softly up at the man above her. She could have bit her lip, or run her tongue along the outside of her mouth, or blown him a kiss or otherwise teased and tantalized him, but something stopped her. Certainly, this was far from a chaste moment—however lovingly and softly, she was still rubbing her tits all over his cock, feeling that stiff length poke and slide against the skin of her breasts, dripping precum and anticipating the moment when it would coat her chest—but neither was it one that she wanted to fully devote to carnal activities and forgo the very real affection that she knew was present. She did not know if he realized it, but the Swordsman’s gaze, almost softer than her tits must have felt around his length, radiated such sincere attachment that she could not help but respect the baseline he was setting. Just because he was letting her glide his shaft between her increasingly-slick breasts did not mean that this couldn’t indicate something more, something greater than mere outercourse. They were going to need to unpack quite a bit, emotionally, before this was all done.  
  
Especially if the tell-tale flutter in her pulse that she felt whenever she held eye contact with him meant what she thought it did.  
  
He blinked, biting his lip, and the Witch knew he was ready. There was no rapid acceleration of the movement of her tits around and atop his shaft, no hurried climax that required more intensity or even a staggered warning. She simply readjusted her hands to hold onto the sides of her breasts more tightly, kept dragging them up and down the Swordsman’s length, and felt him tense when his orgasm was imminent. Hard and ready, it throbbed and pulsed and she made sure to catch the first, most voluminous blast right between her tits. For the rest of his slow, rolling cumshots, she allowed the head of his cock to peek through the pillow of her cum-soaked cleavage, taking the jolt of precious fluid onto her upper chest, chin, and shoulder blades, the rest dribbling out onto the top of her breasts.  
  
And all the while, she looked not at the considerable cock she’d been getting off with her chest, but the face of the man said cock belonged to, and he back at her. Despite the lack of opportunity to get herself off that time, what with how occupied her hands were, the Witch didn’t mind. Somehow, this time, finishing the Swordsman off so thoroughly was more than enough fulfillment. The reciprocal orgasms could come later.  
  
Collecting the cum off of her tits, stomach and shoulders took little effort: washing the leftovers that she couldn’t or didn’t want to make use of was always more time-intensive, likely because she lingered while cleaning off the Swordsman’s cock with her mouth and licking off what she could from her own skin. This session, however, he did not excuse himself as soon as they were both cleaned and leave her to her work, or to rest. Instead, he lingered, watching her as she returned her clothing to her person and stepped towards one of the vessels she’d filled with his cum.  
  
“Is there something more you would like, Swordsman?” The Witch tilted her head. Their game had been over for some time, and now they were back to their regular dynamic. “I have what I need for now, but you well know that I am always happy to…’collect’ more.”  
  
He shook his head, mask and hat still off his person. “No, nothing like that. Most pressingly, I could not help but notice that I was afforded a second release, but you only one. I can alleviate that, if you wish.”  
  
She smiled warmly back at him. He _had_ considered her situation, sweet man that he was. “My thanks. But that will not be necessary for now. Perhaps in the future.”  
  
“I look forward to it.” He chuckled. “My next query is much less exciting. What are you _actually_ doing with my...seed?” He wasn’t sure why he held back from the word they’d used so brazenly many times, “cum”. A desire to stratify the different aspects of their relationship? Unlikely, given how integral it was to the very core of their interactions, with nearly every face-to-face encounter ending in some sort of sexual activity, or at least the promise of it in the future. Misplaced modesty, then?  
  
“Ah. Would you like to watch? It would be easier than explaining without visual aids, although I concede I am not accustomed to an audience while I work.”  
  
“Certainly. What first?”  
  
“Well, let us see…” She flipped through a book on her desk, stopping at a corner-marked page containing formulae and notes from the last time she’d tested his cum. “Well, I have already performed optical tests. I was not anticipating the studying of refractive and reflective properties of your cum to yield any results, and I was correct. In terms of glow, color, visibility, it is...for lack of a better term, ordinary semen. Its power is not tied to its electromagnetism.”  
  
“...And how, exactly, would you know what ‘ordinary’ semen’s properties are? Have you investigated it before?”  
  
“Certainly not! I have never studied this before, have never had any need to. My magic falls into a variety of categories, most healing and necromancy foremost above many others, but nothing has required such material before.” She patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “You are a pioneer.”  
  
“...Great. I have succeeded in this one, small thing, at the very least.”  
  
“This will have enormous impact, reaching far beyond the boundaries of this hut!” She scoffed. “‘Small’? In no way is this ‘small’!”  
  
The Swordsman couldn’t resist the low-hanging bait. “Are you referring to your research on my cum, or my cock that has delivered it so copiously?”  
  
“I refer to both, of course.” She weaved into his banter without pause. She’d walked into that one, but would not give him the satisfaction of becoming flustered, even if he _was_ more than a little clever. “Now, other experiments...I’ve tried to use it as a summoning or channeling medium for a dragon spirit, same as a hemomancer might for blood, but still nothing.”  
  
He winced. “Perhaps that is for the best. The image of a…’cum-bound dragon’ is a very unpleasant one.”  
  
“You lack imagination, then. Beyond that, I have only tested its alchemical reactivity. I can safely say it is no philosopher’s stone, capable of crafting a product that imparts the power of its owner, and imbibing potions using it as the primary ingredient do not impart its power.”  
  
“Are you not doing that already, when you swallow down the dregs after collecting what you need? In addition, I filled your throat quite powerfully on our first meeting, if you recall.” He added with a wink, tweaking her nose her hat playfully. “So if that did not succeed, I highly doubt adding yet more ingredients will.”  
  
“Very true. I should have considered that.” The Witch chewed her lip, stroking her chin. “Ah, well. All in the name of magic. For now, though, I believe rune-work will be a profitable line of inquiry. Your brother channels his spirit through a tattoo, correct?”  
  
“...Yes. Yes, he does.” The Swordsman’s voice dropped, adopting a graveled edge for a split-second before returning to normal. The Witch winced. She knew that the older sibling had had a hand in the injuries of the younger, but was not sure how much bad blood yet remained between them. He had spoken briefly of him before when she had brought it up, but clearly emotions were still raw. He had not deserved to be put on the spot like that.  
  
“That was inappropriate of me.” She squeezed his shoulder and shook her head. “I…”  
  
He held up a hand. “No, do not worry. It is difficult, yes, but...I still hold out hope for reconciliation. I do not wish to speak of him with you, if we might avoid it, but I appreciate your consideration.”  
  
The Swordsman smiled, as if to reassure her, and the only thing that stopped her from stepping forward and kissing him was the knowledge that, in all likelihood, that would end with them entangled in each other’s bodies again, fucking and cumming and derailing her precious train of thought. As appealing as that was, she had more avenues of magical study to explore.  
  
“Now, you mentioned runes?”  
  
“Yes!” She slipped her hand down from his shoulder and grasped his fingers, dragging him behind her towards the inscription tools, laid out on a corner of her desk in an unorganized pile of pointy objects and sketch paper. “Now, I have never carved a rune and filled the mold with cum before, so you shall once again blaze a most remarkable trail!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are really heating up between these two! Now, where might they go from here...
> 
>  
> 
> If you enjoyed this, be on the lookout for my other stories and the other chapters of this one!
> 
> I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lewdsmoke) and [ Hentai Foundry](http://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/Lewdsmokesoldier/profile).


	5. Enthralled, Enchanted, Exhausted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Swordsman and the Witch have been fucking for quite some time now. She's aiming to get as much of his cum as he can give her, and he's all too happy to supply it! How many innovative ways to have outercourse can they come up with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely a transaction-based relationship like this has no potential to blossom into something more.

“Absolutely not.”

The Swordsman turned over on the grass, facing away from the Monk. His mentor sat, bemused, rubbing his head despite, as a mechanical being, not feeling any discomforts that would merit such a reaction. Instead, it served only to mock and insinuate.

“What is so terrible about that, my student? You would both be finding something beautiful, and there is little controversy in finding beauty in a world as difficult as ours can be.”

“I am not ‘in love’ with her, Master.”

“If that is true, you are doing a remarkably poor job showing it. Your sexual activities with her notwithstanding, I sense the contentment and peace within you, deeper than I have ever before. Even my own counsel never served to bring about such happiness, my student.”

“That may be because you rely on the power of terrifying and ineffable beings that I will refuse to call gods.”

“Call them what you may, my student. You benefited from my guidance, but not to the extent that you have benefited from your union with the Witch. Do you not feel the calm within her as well? Assuming, of course that you can feel anything else when inside her besides—”

“Master, please.”

The Monk giggled. “My apologies. But my point still stands. Surely this cannot be a bad thing? The Witch has traveled with her and found new purpose, and in so doing, you both have found in each other a deeper connection beyond the transactional exchanges of before, however lovely they were.”

“Master, I believe you are getting ahead of yourself, and of us. Yes, there is affection, but such a thing is to be expected when we spend as much time…” The Swordsman trailed off and rolled his wrist, letting the gesture fill in the sentence for him. The Monk would have none of it.

“When you spend as much time engaging in intercourse as the two of you do?”

“I was hoping to avoid having it be said out loud.”

“Why?”

“Because you knowing of it does may make it seem any less...private? Personal?” He shrugged. “I treasure it, yes. That is why I feel it is devalued when it is spoken about outside of a space the Witch and I share. Will you respect that?”

“I do not understand it, but I will respect your wishes.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Another well-meaning chuckle. “Of course, I will continue to refuse to believe that you are not enamored with her.”

“I suppose that is all I can ask for.” The Swordsman sighed and rolled onto his back, awaiting the new day, the new road, and the new evening, the latter of which would promise yet further delights.

And also, he hoped deep down, a chance to figure out how right his Master might be. There was definitely something there with the Witch. Was it something they wanted, something they deserved, something they should go through with?

He hoped tomorrow would answer more questions than it raised.

* * *

 

The Swordsman shuddered, cock tensing in the Witch’s hand. They’d opted for something simpler today, to give them a chance to recuperate after the intensity of yesterday’s encounter, and so decided that it would be more relaxed and enjoyable to sit next to each other and work their partner with their hands. He’d stripped naked, and so had she, save for her hat, which somehow made it so much better. His fingers slipped in deep, probing, poking and rubbing, and she shuddered and whined, inner walls tightening onto his digits, not yet cumming but certainly close. Her hand glided up and down on his length, squeezing near the top before dragging back, soft and smooth. Its lack of speed was more than made up for in the way her lapses of focus left her fingers grabbing him more strongly in some spots and more loosely in others, uneven and all the better for its unpredictable pattern on his dick.

Their mutual masturbation had only on possible outcome, but it still crept up on them without warning. His index finger curled and dragged along the top of the inside of her cunt, a little rougher than he’d anticipated, but that roughness was precisely what she’d needed. Her voice fumbled into a breathy half-moan, catching and stuttering along with the quivering and clamping of her inner walls around his digits. At the same time as she was gushing onto his hand, her own sped up slightly, not yet flying up and down on his dick but certainly moving faster than the leisurely pace she’d been jacking him off to before. Her thumb rolled around his tip, her pinky prodded his ballsack, and she groaned into his ear, her hat pressing against the side of his head, the whistle of air through her lips stuttering with the pace of her orgasm.

He couldn’t hold himself back, and he didn’t want to. The Swordsman came, spurting into her hand, feeling her catch his cum in between her fingers, just like that first time she’d “collected” his load. This time, it had been much more reciprocal, and much more leisurely. Somehow, that was even better, though he had no cause to complain about how she’d treated him before.

They pulled away while she got up on unsteady feet to store the cum she could find, her legs wobbling and ass jiggling very slightly with her teetering movements. Instead of returning to the couch where they’d enjoyed each other, she met him at her washroom, so that she might conjure them a bath.

The Swordsman slipped into the steaming water with a contented sigh, teeth clacking not from cold but from relief at the sensation of hot water dripping life back into his limbs from the day’s travels and the motions he’d enjoyed and administered. He closed his eyes, not opening them even when the Witch joined him, resting her now-hatless head on his shoulder as they shared the bath together.

No words passed between them, the space occupied by magically bubbling water and cloying steam, two hallmarks of absolute relaxation that they had little intention of disrupting. He found his hand wrapping around the Witch’s shoulder, and she snuggled into him in the bath, humming in satisfaction at the small gesture of affection. The feelings he’d been mulling over since their first time together, brought back to the forefront of his mind after yesterday’s events, shifted and churned in his thoughts without finding purchase. What did he feel for the Witch? There was something more important there, beneath the surface, but could he act on it? He was not certain.

But, at last, when he thought he might be nodding off, the Swordsman spoke, his voice echoing off of the porcelain.

“It has occurred to me that I do not know your name.”

A pause. He thought the Witch had fallen asleep, surrounded by warmth, wetness and his own body, but she was tapping her finger on his chest. She needed more encouragement.

“I can offer you my name, if it would help ease the process for you to share yours. I trust you with that information.”

Still nothing. The fingers tapping his chest came to a rest, her palm splaying out onto his skin.

“My name is—“

“No.”

The Swordsman tilted his head down at the Witch, perplexed but respecting her interjection. She fiddled with his hair, occupying both her hands now. The bath was still relaxing, but he’d become aware of a new apprehension in the air.

The Witch was frightened. He wouldn’t force this on her.

“I understand.”

“Thank you.” She pecked him on the cheek and nuzzled her head on his shoulder, a hair above the water line. “I...I am simply not ready. Names have power, and they have meaning, and they have vulnerability, and for all that we have shared that is a threshold I cannot yet cross. Thank you.”

“It was no trouble, Witch. Be at ease.”

She took a deep breath, then, and waved her hand in a circle beneath the water. It bubbled just a little more fiercely, the temperature rising, but the Swordsman still found it enjoyable.  
“I apologize.”

“For what?” He resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. This was the closest, the most open they had ever been. He would not spoil it with anything that might give the impression he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“For...the subversive role I played in our first encounter. However I frame it, there was an element to it out of your control. Wherever it ended up, the first steps, the important steps were of my own making, outside of your input and without your consent, or at least you believed it to be so. The fact that it led us here does not justify my actions, nor does the hostility we held for each other at the time.” The Witch brushed her lips against the bottom of his neck. “I am sorry.”

In truth, he had not devoted much more thought to the exact circumstances of their first fuck, but yes, she was correct that at first it had involved him believing himself helpless and at her mercy, and she had abused that. They had been enemies at the time, and he did not see fit to have that cause them any further grief, but knowing that it had troubled her left him both troubled and heartened.

Troubled, for it meant that she had been passing these last few encounters with him with the guilt still buried in her soul. How much of her rationale for her actions had been driven by a misplaced desire to atone? Yes, she had done something that was generally very wrong. Robbed him of his agency in a decision most crucial, that of who he wished to have sex with. Ordinarily, the fact things had ended up well would not have justified such behavior. But her being had gone through so many changes since then, her person so much more clearly understood and elucidated, that he could not, did not judge her by the same standards. And, he was unashamed to admit, the sex had been fantastic.

Yet it also left him heartened. Heartened hat she had been so gracious as to attempt to rectify her decision. Heartened that she had found some peace in her turmoil. And heartened that he was part of something so precious, so pure and good alongside, not in spite of, the sex they enjoyed.

So he nodded and planted a small kiss on the top of her head, nose resting in her hair. He knew how he felt. Now all that was left was to figure out exactly what that meant.

* * *

The Swordsman did not return to the campfire that night, electing to rest with the Witch and join his master in the morning. His teacher had noticed his student’s absence and the new emotions bubbling beneath the surface, and could not resist a jab.

“Ah, he finally returns. Was I correct?”

“Yes.” The Swordsman responded flatly.

“Aha!”

“Master, I am...I am still confused, troubled. Please, no teasing. Not tonight.”

“I understand.” The Monk nodded sagely. If he was disappointed, he did not show it. “Rest well, my student. We shall speak of this another time. And I am very happy for you.”

“Thank you, Master.” The Swordsman closed his eyes, and the scholar bent his head forward in meditation. If his student was to find the deeper peace he had sought for so long with the Witch, then his mentor had cause to celebrate. Few things were more fulfilling than sensing his pupil’s growing ease.

* * *

“Well, well, well, Swordsman. I believe the tables have turned, have they not?”

In the grander scheme of things, yes, they had. The Witch had spent some of their time as amorous partners together as the one taking charge, but lately he had assumed more power and control. Relinquishing it now felt almost strange, but certainly not unwelcome.

Her rear was bare, pressing back against him, the soft globes of her ass pillowing around his cock. When she shifted forward, the head of his dick slid down until it was almost pressing against the puckered, deliciously tight-looking star of her asshole, but each time, before he could get any ideas, she would move again, dragging his erection back up until the tip poked into the open air and his balls rested against her backside. Her hands were on his thighs, gripping him while she bent her legs in a half-squat, and held herself steady. Without the pressure of her grip, her butt did not press around his shaft with as much force as he had experienced with her breasts.

His hands were free. The Swordsman could, very easily, reach upwards from his supine position, press the Witch’s buttocks together into a perfect little valley to fuck, and rut furiously into it until he came all over her back. He could flip the dynamic of control back in his favor.

But he did not. That was not what this was about. This was the Witch’s time to have fun, to exert command and enjoy its rush.

“Mmm, you feel simply divine back there, hard and girthy and ready to pop. I so do look forward to the next time you find yourself ploughing my rear. I’ve missed having you stretching it out, you know.” She gasped, looking back at him, the corner of her eye barely visible beneath the rim of her hat.

That was the other thing he enjoyed about her dominant streak. When she was in the mind to do it, the Witch was capable of some of the dirtiest, tawdriest, most enticing encouragement he’d yet enjoyed, and hearing her tease and taunt him playfully was nearly enough to get off without any other stimulation.

Nearly, of course. His current, near-orgasmic state could also be attributed to the Witch’s fine, soft rear embracing his cock. But her words certainly helped, and he bit his lip and clenched his fists, trying to stop himself from cumming too quickly.

“It requires all of my focus and both of my hands to keep this up, Swordsman. I cannot attend to my own needs.” She continued, turning away from him. “So perhaps I shall give you the chance to make good on your earlier promises of reciprocating the pleasure I am granting you.”

The Swordsman’s teeth ground together. The soft pressure of her asscheeks pillowing his cock; how her butt slid against his nuts on the downstroke; the way he prodded her back entrance just a little bit each time he slipped upward; to say nothing of her words and the dripping sultriness of every syllable. It was all coming together too strongly for him to want to hold back.

“I can feel how close you are. Shall you coat my back with your cream, leaving it sticky and slick with the evidence of your pleasure? Or will you instead glaze my rear, covering my ass in the warm, wet seed I crave? I leave the choice to you.” She clicked her tongue and began undulating and grinding her ass backwards, smothering and pressing his cock beneath her rear, hips rolling to add that little extra ‘oomph’ to the weight of her butt. “But either way, know that until I can use it to discover more about your power, I will be demanding and expecting you to supply me with all the cum I could ever dream of. And even afterwards, I am quite sure that you shall be more than eager to continue gifting me with your loads, however they might be…’collected.’ Now, about that more pressing climax…”

The new weight of her backside being brought to bear against his length, the force pressing down and around him, coupled with her alluring promises of future like interactions was more than the Swordsman cared to try to hold back. With the Witch’s ass flattening his dick against his stomach, the Swordsman came, spurting between her asscheeks and up towards his chest, streaking the skin with ropes of hot, off-white semen, clinging to the hair along the front of his body.

“Ah.” She turned and looked to the Swordsman, her cum-slick rear gliding against his twitching, still-oozing cock until she faced him, straddling his pelvis, her pussy lips rubbing against his half-erect cock. He knew he wasn’t going to get his shaft inside of her, however much he desperately wanted to. Not until she got what she was looking for. “It seems you have made quite a mess of yourself. I am not surprised.”

Crawling forward, the Witch snapped her fingers, a glass tube zipping into her hands from one of the shelves. But instead of rising to remove the cum coating her rear, she instead positioned her slit directly above the Swordsman’s face, the lips puffy and oozing her arousal while she began scooping up cum from his stomach and chest to put into her tube.

“As I was saying, you are indebted to me. Specifically, you owe me some orgasms. I see no better time like the present to collect on at least one of them. So...care to taste this Witch?”

The Swordsman did not reply. When she leaned forward to scoop up more of his seed, he leaned upwards, planting a kiss on her clit, taking advantage of this new angle to explore her more deliberately, curling and curving with his tongue to investigate the same pussy he’d fucked and fingered before, but had yet to eat out. Now he could fix that, and he dove in with gusto.

She shuddered and gasped above him, hands quivering as he dug his tongue in deep, licking and swirling and pressing roughly along her warm, tender, eager nethers. She’d been so riled up from grinding against his cock that she was closer to finishing than she’d thought, the glow of pleasure brighter, the warmth in her core deeper. She wanted this to take time, but she also wanted to cum hard and fast, and she wasn’t sure which desire would win out. Should she lean away and force him to attend to her with his tongue less forcefully, less powerfully, letting her drag out the experience of his mouth attending to her? Or would it be better to grind back against his face, expediting the inevitable throes of climaxing on his tongue and lips until his chin went numb? The thought was...enticing. If she wasn’t careful, she’d—

The Witch’s train of thought was interrupted as he gave a long, hard drag of his tongue all the way from bottom to top, circling the organ around her clit before pressing his lower teeth against it, then mirroring the motion again without letting up. Her focus shattered. She was still atop, still guiding the direction of their intercourse as she began to roll and undulate her hips against the Swordsman’s face, but even so she was left squirming, gasping, gushing onto his tongue and chin, biting her lip to stop from crying out and spoiling the moment. Her thighs cramped, but she didn’t stop shoving her cunt down onto his face and riding out her orgasm until, just as she predicted, his lips and tongue were left sore and tired.

She rose on unsteady legs, shaking confusion out of her head, a trail of her come connecting her slit to the Swordsman’s mouth. She had to reassert herself, remind him how things were working for now.

“Well done.” She began, turned and crossing her arms over her chest, smiling confidently down at him. “Now, if you are quite finished being a distraction, I can get to work collecting what you so generously spilled all over my backside.”

His only response was to nod, a playful twinkle in his eye. He’d nipped back at her power, just a tad, by eating her out so well that she’d momentarily let him believe he was in control. He wasn’t, of course, but somehow that little rebellion was all the more endearing.

* * *

“Tell me about your homeland.”

The Swordsman started and blinked in confusion, still atop the Witch. They’d been trying something a little different, with him dragging and rubbing his cock atop her slit and lower stomach, working at her clit by rubbing his shaft and balls all over them. It had worked out well, the movements and position so close to him pushing inside her without actually doing so, letting him dry-hump against her until he’d spilled onto her stomach and tits, cum jetting out all over her front while she found her own release, spasming and grinding against the base of his dick.

He looked to be still coming off the high of it, cum still pulsing out from his cockhead onto her stomach, oozing down to his balls as they rested atop her slit. She had some idea of why the question occurred to her. The Swordsman deserved to know that she cared about what he had to say as well, and one of the avenues of communication was his past.

Of course, perhaps this hadn’t been the most opportune time to bring it up. He was literally still cumming on her body, sweat dripping onto her skin and mixing with the beads of fluid already dotting her. But she had asked it, and now what was left was whether or not he would answer.

He was silent for a long moment, holding himself above the Witch. She couldn’t discern the expression on his face. Was it bafflement at her choice to ask this now? Confusion as to what to say, exactly? Whatever it might be, he was clearly taking his time thinking it through. She allowed him to ponder: it would be better than trying to rush him, and it was no secret to her that his past would involve some pain. He deserved the chance to take it slow.

“It is difficult to describe what sets it apart. I have traveled to a great many lands, and they are all beautiful in their own ways, but home will always be closest to my heart.” If he found it awkward to reminisce while his dick still lay half-erect and dripping with his ejaculate atop the woman he’d just dry-humped to completion, he did not show it. She could appreciate such adaptability. “I could go on for some time about my homeland. Longer than I suspect you would have the patience to hear.”

“Humor me.” She reached out to pull him closer, letting him slip into position at her side, his cheek on her chest, the softness of her breasts forming a pillow for him to rest his head on. The Witch would not have held it against him if he had become distracted by her bosom, but he remained focused, letting out a slow breath that was halfway to a sigh.

“It stretches taut between conflict and serenity. Some roads are ravaged by war, their towns gutted and burning smoke into the sky, haunted by the spectres of conflict. Not literal ghosts, although those linger, too. Our demons are different, but they exist. ” He let her trail her hands in his hair, looping the unruly strands at the top into knots before untangling them and letting them bounce back to rest. “I will not pretend that it is without upheaval. And yet, I also dwell on the mellifluous birdsong, the mountains so shrouded in mist that flight seems a possibility, the blossom petals in spring that lie perfectly still on the mirrored lakes. There are sights such that you would not believe.”

“The way you describe it, it seems a wonderful place. I would very much like to see it for myself.”

“Alas,” The Swordsman began, stroking her stomach, tracing lines on her skin with his cum, “I doubt I will ever return there, at least not before it has become something I cannot recognize. And I was not exaggerating. The conflict is fierce, and I do not know when it will abate, if it ever will. I have almost been slain once. I have no desire to die twice.”

The Witch opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. She’d had some idea of his injuries, of the trauma he had endured, and now he had mentioned it again. Was it an appropriate time to ask him, or would she upset him again, as she did last time? It was clear his pain was tied to his brother, though she was not certain how.

“My brother and I, we had a...dispute. A divergence in direction. He wished for me to follow a path I did not, and his hand was forced.” She must have been tapping her fingers more insistently than she’d meant, or otherwise communicated her discomfort, because he picked up on her question without her ever having said it. Very astute of him.

“I am…” She started, then trailed off. How could she put such suffering into words, such harm? She had understood the ineffable and yet could still be confounded by the simple cruelty of man. The Witch would have, once, used such a revelation to justify turning her harrying of Aldersbrunn into a slaughter, but no more. What it might mean that the Swordsman’s pain evoked such a cocktail of fury and sorrow was not lost on her.

She had spotted the way he lingered on her, the softness with which he treated her. Such a degree of accomodation went beyond what was necessitated by their fucking, and brought it closer to that action that was limited to those truly in love. Was she ready to believe that he felt such longing for her, and her for him? Could she put her faith in such a thing?

“How did you survive?”

“An apothecary, a person skilled in combining plants, herbs and other ingredients that are ordinarily fatal into balms, salves and potions that are not.They found me, soothed me, brought me back from oblivion. After a time with them, stewing on my wrath, I found my Master, and he helped nurture the serenity that I knew lay within, helped it bloom into the man you see before you. But I do not hold out much hope for returning home, especially if my brother has also wandered from it.”

He stretched his arm across her stomach and scooted upwards, slipping a hand beneath her back, hugging her from the side, his chin now on her shoulder. The whistling of air from his nostrils tickled her neck, and she felt goose bumps flutter across her skin.

“Long years have passed since the events that led me where I am today, but I recall deaths and loneliness. That gluttonous eater of loved ones, war, robbed me of my own, of those who would have raised and nurtured me. I do not recall the exact circumstances, but in my despair, crawling and clawing my way through the void, stinging from the betrayal known only to a child who sees themselves without guidance, I eventually found what made me what I am. It was wa gradual elucidation, not one epiphany, but the Witch you see before you was conceived on the day that girl was destroyed.” The memories bubbled up and over, spilling out of her faster than she could stop it, but she was not afraid. She feared no judgement, no condemnation from the Swordsman.

“What I was before, frail and helpless, buffeted by the cruel winds of a world that seemed to hold no mercy, is now gone, for the better. A sliver of that life yet holds fast.” She smiled sadly, pecking the Swordsman on the forehead. “Angela. That is all that remains. And however much I am her, first and foremost my place is as the nameless Witch of the Wilds. You are the only one who will ever know.”

The gravity of her confession exceeded her own ability to comprehend it. She had just breached a wall she had never let down before, welcomed someone in in a way that she had never considered. There was no going back, but the Swordsman clearly understood the significance. Hugging her just a little more tightly, he feathered light kisses along her neck and shoulders, whispering all the while.

“A secret only one person knows is the most powerful secret there can be.” He started, nuzzling into her cheek. “But I will keep yours as if it was mine, and together, it shall be undisclosed to all others, as if it was known to only one.”

The Witch blinked, feeling water beading the corners of her eyes, and she sniffed and rubbed them away in his hair, feeling him squeeze her reassuringly.

“Genji.” He murmured into her ear. “We carry a part of each other, united in a pact of mystery. A covenant of obscurity.”

Tightness welled up in her throat, and the Witch did not attempt to stifle the emotion cresting in her. She leaned over towards him until she was on her side as well, wrapping her own arms around his waist, holding him close with her chin pressed tightly between his neck and shoulder. A tear dotted down each of her cheeks.

She knew for certain what she believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've mostly written lovey-dovey stuff, but this is one of the first times I've tried to establish it during the story, rather than having the relationship be in place before the story began. Let me know how I did.
> 
> One more chapter left! If you liked this one, take a look at my other stories and the finale to this one!
> 
> I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lewdsmoke) and [ Hentai Foundry](http://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/Lewdsmokesoldier/profile).


	6. To Tame a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The answers that the Witch seeks are nearly within her grasp, and the Swordsman is eager to help her attain what she is looking for. But the answer may be more than either was expecting, and require them to confront what they find in each other before they can see this through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale! This was my favorite chapter to write, for reasons that will become immediately obvious.

“I am not certain what to do, Master.”  
  
The Monk steepled his fingers and drummed the together, humming. “You are quite sure she feels the same way?”  
  
“I am.” The Swordsman poked a stick into the fire circle, watching the blaze spark and flare around the intrusion, charring the wood.  
  
“I understand it would be inappropriate to congratulate you.”  
  
“Yes, it very much would.”  
  
“But I will do so anyway!” His master chuckled and pat the Swordsman on the back and offering a hand. “Well done, my student. For the Witch to share your attachment...she is quite a catch, as I understand it, though I have little understanding of such matters.”  
  
“I...thank you, Master.” The Swordsman acknowledged, even as he shrunk away from the Monk’s outstretched hand. If his teacher noticed, he did not comment on it. “But that does not address my immediate concern. With the Witch, I feel more at ease, more at peace, even _happier_. How do I ensure that this opportunity is not wasted? I will not let a mutual attraction slip by, but I confess I do not know how to approach this with her.”  
  
“It appears to me that you both have already done the majority of it independently.” The Monk pointed out. “I do not believe it needs to be explicitly spelled out, as it were. If this is true affection, genuine love, it will manifest itself in myriad ways.”  
  
“That is...that actually makes more sense than it sounds.”   
  
“Of course it does.” The Swordsman could sense his master’s glee in the rapid revolution of orbs around his next. Whenever he got excited, they went a little wild, now floating in a loose circle and resembling a circling set of eyes more than a necklace. Although, in truth, they were both. “I said it!”  
  
“Such modesty! You are a model of humility, Master.”  
  
“Of course. That is why _I_ am the teacher, and _you_ are the pupil.”   
  
Their rising laughter echoed into the night sky, cracking the darkness as sharply as the blaze roaring before them.

* * *

“Nothing is working!”  
  
The Witch stomped across her bedroom, pacing back and forth, trying to make sense of her scattered notes and empty flasks for the Swordsman’s cum while he stood to the side near the door to the hallway, tapping his foot and smirking. He probably shouldn’t take as much pleasure in her frustration as he was, but it _did_ feel good to know that he could baffle even the most diligent of magical scholars. Still, he couldn’t leave her to stew and fester, her consternation turning to monastic isolation. Then they’d be right back where they started.  
  
“Let us go back through the list you made. You have performed alchemical transmutations and elixir brewings, runic inscriptions, electromagnetic spectrum tests...what else?”  
  
“My last test involved ectoplasm, of course.”  
  
“ _Ectoplasm?_!” The Swordsman stood straight, shouting. “Why on earth would you try to test my seed with the essence of _ghosts_? What kinds of trials were you running?”  
  
“Relax, relax! I simply compared the two, to see if the residue of certain spectres might resemble your cum or otherwise share properties. Unfortunately, it appears there are no similarities.”  
  
‘I sincerely hope there are not!”  
  
“Hrmph.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “Glad to see you so excited at the possibility that my investigations will bear fruit. And what concern is it of yours if your cum bears any similarities to ghostly ectoplasm?”  
  
The Swordsman winced. He had not meant for his outburst to communicate such harshness, but he could recognize how he had transgressed. “Apologies. I did intend to cause offense.”  
  
As quickly as it came, the Witch’s anger evaporated. Her shoulders relaxed, her gaze softened, and her arms returned to her sides. “I overreacted as well. In any event, I am simply at a loss. Do you have any other information that could assist me? If not, I may have to postpone my experiments…”  
  
His breath caught in his throat, and his anxiety must have been visible. She chuckled and raised a hand placatingly.  
  
“...But not our time together. No, I would not give that up for anything.” The Witch stepped forward, trailing her fingers along the mask covering his jaw. “But is there anything else I may have missed? Please, try to remember...some family tale, some lost legend, some conversation with your brother that may have provided information. _Anything_.”  
  
She extended the drawl on the final word, fluttering her eyelashes up at him. Perhaps their next bout of fucking would be coming sooner than they’d thought. The Swordsman admitted that it was hard focusing with the Witch leaning against him, and even more difficult with the way she was pressing her thigh against his growing, covered erection, but one thing came to mind immediately. “Have we discussed my family history?”  
  
“What do you mean?” She murmured, resting her cheek on his chest, undoing his sash to let the dip in his clothing covering his skin widen, giving her an opening to lick his exposed pectoral. The Swordsman shuddered, his own hands trailing up her waist, intent on reaching the top of her corset. She’d forgone her wings for several days now, and while he appreciated how it let him run his fingers over her back more free, he _did_ rather enjoy pulling on them as he rutted into her from behind. Something for another day, perhaps.  
  
“You know.” He started, pulling down on her top, exposing her breasts and watching them press against his chest as her lips moved up to peck his chin, her hands unraveling his gi, leaving it parted to expose his chest, abdominals and pants. “Which members of my family have historically had it, which haven’t, that sort of thing.”  
  
“Mmmm.” She didn’t respond at first, focusing instead on pulling down his trousers and underclothes, leaving him bare and proudly erect. Her hands were already on the rim of her underclothes when she spoke. “That was probably something we should have cleared up earlier.”  
  
“Yes, but could you blame us?” The Swordsman chuckled, gently stroking his length, watching a single pearlescent drop of precum bead at the tip and catch on his index finger. “I mean…”  
  
“No, I understand.” The Witch giggled in concert, pulling down her clothing until she too was bare. She still wear most of her clothing, but her tits, cunt and ass were exposed, and that was important. The Swordsman still had his gi on, similarly freeing his chest and cock, so their half-nakedness was even. Stepping back towards him, she popped his mask off and pulled the Swordsman into a kiss, letting him rub his cock in the space between their bodies, the hand on his shaft moving to grab a breast, the other grabbing her rear. Her own fingers drifted to his shoulders and the back of his head, tangling in his hair, content to let him paw and grope and use her for the time being. With a gasp, they separated.  
  
“Well, my father had it, and his mother before him, and her father before her.” The Swordsman thrust forward and back, gently sliding his cock up and down the Witch’s stomach and lower pelvis, murmuring into her ear.  
  
“Did it skip any generations?” She mused, moving the hand from the back of his head to grab at the rim of her hat, holding it steady as his movements threatened to knock it off.  
  
“Certainly not! Everyone in my family has had it, in some capacity.”  
  
“Every one of you…” Her train of thought was interrupted as the Swordsman gave a light _slap_ to her ass, feeling the sensitive skin quiver beneath the force of his strike, delicate as it was. The Witch bit her lip and hummed encouragement, and he narrowed his eyes playfully.  
  
“Pray tell, did I distract you on the cusp of revelation?”  
  
“If you had, you would be paying dearly for it.” She teased, grinding forward against his cock, reveling in how he grit his teeth at the sudden pressure. “But yes, I was wondering. Did your mother not have it, or your grandfather, or your great-grandmother?”  
  
“Of course they had it!”  
  
“Perchance, did they marry into the family?” The Witch was starting to get something of an idea as to what exactly might be the solution to her problem, and if she was correct...this was going to be a _lot_ more enjoyable than it already had been. How had this not occurred to her before?  
  
“As far as I know, my mother did, yes.” The Swordsman grunted and sawed his cock up and down, his balls slapping against the Witch’s pubic hair each time he thrust towards upwards.  
  
“So I must assume the same is true of your grandfather and your great-grandmother. Did your father ever mention when your mother acquired her power?”  
  
“Where are you doing with this?” He emphasized the query with another hard jab, his hand circling and pushing at her tit, threatening again to break her focus. But she steeled herself against the pleasure.  
  
“Answer my question.”  
  
“Yes, yes they did marry into the family, as far as I am aware. And from what my father mentioned, my mother did not manifest her power until after their marriage.”  
  
The excitement was tangible now. She could almost _taste_ it, the sweet essence of epiphany, of understanding! If she winnowed away one more variable, she might have the solution she’d sought for so long! So long as the Swordsman didn’t cum all over her stomach before she reached her conclusion...  
  
“And did she only display these abilities after she was expecting your brother?”  
  
“What kind of…” The Swordsman quirked an eyebrow, his movement slowing, the building pleasure easing off as he sifted through the mists of his memory. “Yes, I remember one of my caretakers mentioning something like that, about how she started getting uncontrollable spirit summonings during her pregnancy. Why?”  
  
The anticipation burst into exuberance, and the Witch couldn’t help but laugh, letting her grinding, rolling hips come to a halt, relieving the Swordsman’s cock of the risk of further, cumshot-triggering stimulation. It had been so obvious! Its very simplicity was what made the answer elude her all this time!  
  
“Swordsman, I can hardly believe we were so blind, so profoundly unable to grasp what was right before us! The solution lies in your cum, yes, but not in it on its _own_.” Her face glowed as it had when she first began expounding upon the magical theories of his cum. The bright eagerness of a scholar in her natural environment as a leaner and investigator. And, at last, her studies had born the sweetest fruit of illumination.   
  
His eyes widened. “You mean…”  
  
“Exactly!” The Witch stepped back and grabbed his hands, leaping and spinning about the room and dragging him with her in an impromptu dance, kicking her legs in an expression of the purest joy, the sort that let her draw deep of the boundless energy of optimism. When she came to a rest, she bobbed from one foot to the next, still smiling. “If I want to get some of your power, which would certainly help me study it more deeply, I need you to impregnate me, Swordsman!”  
  
The Swordsman wasn’t sure what came over him. Her unbridled jubilation was infectious, certainly, but that wasn’t the only thing that got him as excited as he was. Nor was it the prospect at having finally realized how to solve her problem or the very, very attractive possibility of fucking the Witch once again, of claiming her and making her his in that most intimate manner.   
  
No, some of the blame no doubt lay in the feelings he knew they held for each other, in the attraction, the affection that neither had laid out in words but now, more than ever, was certain they shared. He would not devalue their love by saying it, by giving it words out loud. It was all the more precious for being unnamed.  
  
And so, he threw caution to the winds and pulled her close to him, greedily running his hands everywhere he could. What use had he for restraint now, when the woman he loved so preciously was ready to make their love into something tangible? He had no cause to doubt that she was correct. And it made sense, given his lineage.  
  
“Then I say we had better get to it.” He purred. Words that were just that, words, but meant so much more than the sum of their parts. They had crossed a threshold that they could never return from, and would never want to.   
  
A sensation between a flush and a chill swept through the Witch as the Swordsman locked his lips on hers, pushing her towards the wall, his hands grabbing her thigh and waist. The rim of her hat folded up against the it and she was on her back, legs splayed out to the sides, cloth pulled out of the way as he kept kissing her, breathing, his cock pressing meaningfully against her slit. All it would take was a little thrust, and…  
  
She didn’t even get to finish that thought. Breaking free of her mouth, the Swordsman grinned and pushed forward, his cockhead momentarily stalling on her outer lips before spreading her wide around his thick, magnificent cock. The Witch bit her lip, trying desperately to maintain some hold of herself as she at last felt him inside her again. She had to maintain a modicum of control, couldn’t break, not now, not so soon…  
  
But that was before he started talking, jabbing in with every pause, punctuating his words with deeper and harder thrusts.   
  
“So, the Witch at last desires to settle down, so to speak!” He muttered, tightening his grip on her thigh as he moved the hand on her waist to grope one of her swinging, sweaty tits. “You think you will be happier filled with my cum, heavy with my child?”  
  
“Yes! I _know_ I will! I am yours to plow, yours to breed!” She cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist, holding him closer as he pounded away at her, cunt straining around his cock, gripping tight. When the Swordsman was buried fully in her, his balls slapping against her ass, the warmth threatened to overwhelm her, and when he withdraw halfway, the emptiness left her begging for more. She desired, above all else, to be rutted into, fucked and used, brought to screeching orgasm around his cock, and she did not stay quiet. “Fuck me pregnant, Swordsman!”   
  
The sweat dripping down from his face splashed onto her swaying tits, slipping between his fingers and making it harder to grab at her skin, but he didn’t care. He was having too much fun reducing the Witch to screams and begging, glorying in how she asked for more. Harder, deeper, faster, no matter how tightly her pussy gripped him, how slickly her walls were around him as he sawed his dick forward and back, never leaving her less than half-full of his dick at any one time. If he was going to fuck a baby into her, he was going to go at it with gusto.  
  
“I hope you were looking forward to being bred, Witch!” The Swordsman gasped, waist aching from how hard she was holding her legs around him, supporting herself with his back on her calves and his cock grinding all around inside her, shoving more and more. “Bearing the seed of the dragon is no small honor! Are you certain you are up to the task?”  
  
He had zero intention of stopping, and the Witch was all the more grateful for it. She needed him to keep going, to keep being speared on the Swordsman’s meaty cock, to keep feeling his hefty balls smack against her upturned rear, ready to erupt in her. “Fill me, Swordsman! Use me to wring out your cream, to seed me!”  
  
“As you wish.” His breath hitched and he sped up even faster, his thighs and arms screaming in protest, his hand still pulling, pinching and groping her tit. “Take it all, every drop!”  
  
With a roar, he held himself deep, resting his nutsack on her butt and pushing her against the wall as hard as he could and came. His cumshot rushed out in a torrent, painting her insides white, filling her out more than she had dared dream. His cock kept pulsing, kept firing off that cum she so desperately wanted, _needed_. The Witch did not stop herself from cumming, yowling and crying out into the air as her legs and pelvis numbed, the clamping and spasming of her pussy bringing yet more of the Swordsman’s virile seed gushing out into her.  
  
Their uneven breathing and the stickiness of sweat coating their bodies did little to disrupt the euphoria they felt, united in climax, with his filling her up and hers coating his cock. He almost wanted to put her down, to rest, to revel in the moment, but he had a better idea. Why stop now?  
  
“Rejuvenate me.” He said, more frantically than he’d anticipated. He was still quite capable of going, but he wanted the Witch to experience him at his best, with as few limitations as possible.   
  
To her credit, she complied with a snap of her fingers and a golden glow spiraling around the cock still buried inside her, tickling his balls. Even with her muddled senses and uneven focus from the impact of him creaming her fuller than she’d ever felt, she could still work him back to peak performance again. The Swordsman had cum inside her before, but never had he so utterly, thoroughly saturated her with his seed.  
  
She wanted _more_. If they were going to do this right, there was no way she was risking stopping tonight before she’d gotten good and bred. So when he made a move to step away from her, turning her away from him as he withdrew his deliciously engorged dick, the Witch shivered in anticipation.   
  
He’d cum so much that she was not surprised when some dripped out from between her thighs, trailing onto the ground before, warm and sticky and oh-so thick. As much as she worried that it was not staying entirely inside her tunnel, she had no doubt that he’d be giving her even more to carry. She was up to the challenge.

The Swordsman took her hand and led her to her bed. The footboard was carved out of a gray, stone-colored wood, shaped like a tombstone with an arched top. It lacked an epitaph, thankfully, else he would have suspected she had used an actual headstone in the construction of her bed.

Tacky? Certainly. In poor taste? Most definitely.

But would it serve as an excellent handlebar while he fucked her?  _ Absolutely. _

Or so he thought, as he bent the Witch over in front of him until she got the message, gripping the surface and jutting out her rear, the cloth draping over her butt no impediment to what he was about to do. Maybe eventually, they’d get daring enough to fuck with him bending her in front of an actual grave stone and so he could pound her out there until his seed spilled out over the epitaph, coating a “Rest in Peace” with his cum. It would probably never happen, but today, they had the next best thing.

The Swordsman considered drawing it out, making her plead for it. But that wouldn’t do. The Witch _needed_ to be fucked, and he was all too happy to do it.He placed one hand on her ass, gripping the pliable buttock, the other guiding his shaft forward until the head of his cock pressed again upon the folds of her cunt. He watched as she bit her lip, adjusted her hat, and shoved herself backwards onto him as he thrust forward, her rear meeting his pelvis halfway as he rammed forward.   
  
The teeth on her lip slipped off as she joined him in an unsteady groan, his intruding dick displacing the load he’d just blasted her with as he pushed further into her. The hand that had been on his shaft moved to grip her waist, slightly higher than the hand on her ass, all the better to hold onto her as he began to rut. He was so focused on pounding her, watching her butt jiggle each time she pushed back against him and he thrust forward into her, that it didn’t occur to him that speaking would have made this _so_ much better until she started it, too.  
  
“My Swordsman, do you _not_ want to seed me, to fill me up with all you have to give and more, until there is no chance that I am _not_ bred?” The Witch purred, turning her head slightly and blowing him a kiss. When his gaze met hers beneath the brim of her hat, she winked and wiggled her hips, her ass tantalizingly grabbable beneath his hand, her pussy seeming to draw him in and not want to let go. “You know I want it, and I know you wish to do it. Why hold back? Go on. _Breed_ me.” She was taunting him, trying to get him riled up and ready to go harder. It was working.  
  
“There is nothing more I want in the world than to fuck you pregnant right now, my Witch.” He said, holding her more tightly and slamming into her with even more force, reveling in how the rumble in her throat melted away into a gasp, shocked but happy. She was gripping him more fiercely now, cunt clamping down on the girth he was bringing to bear on her inner walls, her squeals driving him to go even harder. The Swordsman turned the strain in holding back his climax into further force, clutching at her ass and waist, his knuckles turning as white as he’d creamed her pussy and would cream it again.  
  
“When I am done with you this next time, it shall not be the end.” He leaned forward and growled into her neck, his hips a flurry of motion as his cock slid in and out, the head pushing ever-deeper inside of her, rubbing against her the inner walls it was soon going to pump full of cream for a second time. “After this, I will fuck you again. And again. And again. Do you know when I will stop?”  
  
She frantically shook her head no, losing the focus to consider the question in full. He was spreading her out so tightly around his dick, his hefty, cum-filled balls slapping her hood each time he thrust forward and buried as deeply as he could possibly reach. The Swordsman was not much taller than the Witch, but now, with him alternating between draping himself over her back while pressing his chest into her shoulders, and standing upright where she could feel his eyes looking down at her, she felt as if he was towering over her. Tall and powerful, taking what he wanted and what she was happy to give, intent on blessing her with his cum and impregnating her.  
  
She _loved_ it. Loved the Swordsman’s dominance, his power, his aggression and determination.  
  
“I will _never_ stop. Every day, whenever I can, I shall wrap you around my cock and fuck you full of my seed, giving you all the cream you could desire.” The Swordsman gave a ringing slap to the Witch’s ass, watching her skin redden and jiggle beneath his touch, and grunted as she bore down on him in response, his balls smacking against her hood. Any tighter, and he’d worry that she’d squeeze his load out of him before he was ready…  
  
“Deep inside you, Witch, every time, as often as possible! I shall sorely miss having you take my cock in hand, or letting you wrap your tits around it, or watching you suck it down, or feeling your ass grip my shaft. I cannot tell you how dearly I will look forward to the day when my seed can once more drip down your face, splatter your throat, coat your hands and fill your ass. Perhaps when that day arrives, I will instead simply shower you all over with as much of it as I can, giving you as thick a coating of my cum as I will have filled you with since we started fucking.” The Swordsman grinned and slapped her rear again, watching her move backwards to meet his thrusts, her breasts swaying above her tombstone-esque footboard.  
  
“But I suppose we cannot take any chances, can we? No, I will just have to make sure you get pregnant as soon as possible, so that we can go back to fucking in other ways! Are you ready to carry my child, my Witch, my love?”  
  
The Witch egged the Swordsman on, wordlessly begging with keening, senseless whines as his lower half became what seemed a blur, her overstimulated cunt convulsing and clutching at his cock, ass slamming back against him. Her eyes rolled up, her tongue extended and drooled onto the bed, and she knew she was cumming. Her limbs became sapped of strength, her core rubbed numb and buzzing, and she feared she would never feel something as utterly rapturous ever again.   
  
The new, yet-tighter grip he had anticipated, feared and welcomed came to bear upon the Swordsman’s cock, and he refused to hold back.  
  
“Take my cum, Angela, and be bred!” The name slipped out before he could stop himself, but he was too caught up in the moment to understand the implications of his error.  
  
Thrusting forward and pulling back on her waist and ass, he cried out and came, flooding her womb yet again with his potent seed, the gift she desired. The point-blank eruption of hot cum filled her, welling up from their union. Would the powerful load he was unleashing into the Witch end up granting her the pregnancy they both desired, fertilizing her, ensuring that she would begin to bear his child? Unlikely. But even if he _did_ get her pregnant on just the second creampie, he’d get right back to cumming in her until he was _sure_ it took.  
  
She seemed to understand as much, coming down from her high, sliding backwards until she was leaning against him, his legs aching harder than he thought as he found himself stumbling over onto his back, slipping out of her until he lay against the carpet, her head on his chest, her slit leaking the smallest bit of his profuse seed.  
  
“Genji. I love you.” A breathless, hurried, thoughtless pronouncement, but the Witch knew it was true. Now, in this moment of perfect union, there was no better time to say it.   
  
“I love you, too, Angela.” The sincerity, the captured lightning of emotion arcing between them, ensured that giving word to the sensation they shared would not diminish it. Of that, the Swordsman was certain. Using their names here, the final lynchpin in their new union, ensured that they would be one going forward into the future.  
  
He did not have to ask. She lazily waved her fingers, luminescent sparkles following the path of her hand, and new life surged into his limbs...and his cock. She met his eyes, her gaze sharp and clear and ready, and smiled in assent, welcoming the Swordsman to flip her onto her back, draping himself on top of her, his slick erection prodding against her creampied nethers.   
  
The Swordsman pressed forward insistently, parting the Witch’s cum-filled, aching pussy around the head of his dick, leaning forward to kiss her as his cock slid in fully, his testicles pressing against her rear. His freshly rejuvenated balls promised many, many more opportunities for him to blast her full of cum, for him to seed her. She couldn’t wait. Sooner or later, the Swordsman would get her pregnant, filling her up again and again until they _knew_ it took. At which point they’d started going _really_ wild to catch up on lost time.  
  
She would receive the blessing of his dragon spirit, and he would creampie her well past the point where it needed to happen. But more than that, they would be blessed with a greater gift. That of each other, of a union forged by mutual attachment and trust, of the peace and safety brought on by a family they could start together and carry into the future.   
  
They weren’t thinking about that right now, instead merely considering how they might most comfortably fuck on her bedroom carpet, her legs wrapping around his waist, their lips locked. But even if it escaped their thoughts in this very moment, the Witch and the Swordsman had found something together that was far greater than they could have ever conceived when they first met as adversaries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! Sword and Sorcery is complete! I can't think of a much better place to end the story of the Witch and the Swordsman than with her getting bred by him, the two of them starting a family, and finding the secrets and security they seek. It's both romantic _and_ it fits in the setting!
> 
> I may write more in the Junkenstein's Revenge meta-story (Dragon Symmetra and the Archer, for example, or the Demon Hunter and the Gunslinger/Van Helsing McCree, or perhaps the Reaper and the Soldier), but whatever happens, Genji and Angela will get a break from this alternate universe.
> 
> I'm opening commissions up again, so send me an email if you're interested!
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, I hope you check out some of my other works! I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lewdsmoke) and [ Hentai Foundry](http://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/Lewdsmokesoldier/profile).


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